Long Road Out of Eden
by MaverickLover2
Summary: When a childhood friend is senselessly murdered, it's up to Bart and Bret to finish the cattle drive he started.
1. Althea Taylor

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 1 – Althea Taylor

' _A week after Bret and Beau left for Mexico, Fred Taylor and his father were killed out at their ranch. They were gettin' ready to start a cattle drive and had money in the house to pay all the hands, and some damn fool tried to rob 'em. Didn't get the cash, but dead is dead. Mrs. Taylor lost the baby some months back, and now she's lost Fred, too. And she needs somebody to boss her cattle drive. Fred did so much talkin' to her about growin' up with you boys that she's gonna be comin' round, askin' you to be her trail bosses.'_

Those words had stuck in Bart Maverick's head ever since he first heard them uttered by his father weeks ago in this very room. It had taken longer than expected, but Mrs. Fred Taylor had eventually shown up at the front door to Uncle Bentley's house, looking solemn and dressed in black. Lily Mae ushered her in and offered her a chair in front of the fireplace, then scrambled to get both a cup of coffee for the new widow and the Maverick brothers, who'd only just emerged from their bedrooms after a day of sleeping. Poker playing was their business, their game of choice, and most nights were spent at that business in the town of Little Bend, Texas. They were still in their hometown only until Bart's wounds from their last escapade healed; then they would venture off to new and even more dangerous locations.

On this late afternoon they were dawdling over coffee in Lily Mae's kitchen, neither in any hurry to do anything more productive than discuss what happened last night at 'Maude's'. Since that involved a wild five card stud game that hadn't broken up until three in the morning and ended with Bart trying to talk his way out of a gunfight with a rather inebriated ranch foreman who'd accused him of dealing from the bottom of the deck, there was a rather lively discourse going. It had taken half the town to convince the foreman that he was new to the territory and didn't know the Maverick brothers, but you'd never find more honest gamblers anywhere, and if he was fond of continuing to breathe he'd best sit down and shut up. Sometimes plying your trade in your hometown was a good thing.

This was the meeting both Mavericks had been dreading. Fred Taylor was a good friend to all three Maverick boys growing up, and no one in Little Bend felt the loss any more deeply, save for his widow. So it was with reluctance that they followed Lily Mae back into the main room, to meet the widow for the first time. To their surprise she was smiling and eager to meet 'the boys' her late husband had told her so much about.

"You must be Bret," she said, and stuck out her hand to the oldest brother. "Fred described you perfectly. As if I could miss those dimples." Then she turned her attention to the youngest Maverick. "And that makes you Bart-of-the-dancing-eyes," she added, almost laughing. "Fred was right. I'd know you anywhere as long as I could see your eyes. But there's one missing. Where's Beau?"

Lily Mae stepped in to explain since the brothers both seemed to have lost the ability to speak. "Mr. Beau's come down with some sort of illness and has been miserable-to-be-around for almost a week. Oops, I mean sick. He sends his apologies but doesn't want to pass along whatever it is he's caught. If you'll have a seat, Mrs. Taylor, I have your coffee."

"Oh thank you, Lily Mae. Please, everyone, call me Althea. I hope you don't mind, Bret and Bart, if we just by-pass the 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' formalities. I've been listening to tall tales about all of you for so long I feel as if we've known each other for years. Of course I'm sure that most of the stories I heard were just that, stories."

"No, ma'am," Bret volunteered. "Anything that Fred told you was probably true."

"Especially if it involved us getting into trouble of some sort," Bart added.

She did laugh at that remark. "And here I though Fred had made up all those tales just to keep me amused. Particularly the one about trying to chop down the schoolhouse."

"Oh no, ma'am, that one was true from beginning to end. But it was all Beau's fault. He was certain – "

"That if we could just destroy the schoolhouse they'd have to let us go home until a new one got built. It didn't work out quite that way," Bart finished for his brother, and all three were now laughing. "And Beau couldn't sit down the whole time we worked on repairing the building. But he got even with all of us for pointing the finger at him."

"That he did," Bret asserted. The laughter stopped and he continued. "We were sorry to hear about Fred's death. And that we weren't here for the burial. We were in Mexico and had no idea until we got back."

Althea Taylor nodded her head. "Yes, I've heard that story, too. Seems like the Mavericks can still find their way into troubles, even without Fred to help steer them there." She took a swallow of coffee and then got to the reason for her visit. "I'm sure your fathers told you about the cattle drive that Fred and Sam had committed to. With both of them gone, I'm left with the obligation of fulfilling the contract they entered into, to deliver between eight and ten thousand head to Western Shippers in Abilene, Kansas. With a herd that size I can't hire just any old trail boss, and everyone has told me there should be at least two men who know what they're doing.

"That's why I'm here. After all of Fred's stories were done he told me what exciting and varied lives you two lead. And all about your experience with cattle drives. I know you've done this kind of thing before, and I'm here to ask if you'd be willing to take over the job of trail boss, or in this case bosses?"

The look that had gone between the brothers when Pappy first told them of Fred's murder reappeared; they'd made a decision as soon as they heard about the death of their friend and his widow's plight. "Mrs. Taylor – Althea – you know that our chosen profession involves absolutely nothin' that even vaguely resembles work, don't you?" It was Bret that asked the question.

"Yes, Bret, I know that. But I also know that Fred trusted you with his life, and I'm asking you to help me finish this last task."

"Help?" Bart wanted to make sure he'd heard her correctly.

"Yes, gentlemen, help. I fully intend to go along to assist with the cooking and whatever else is needed. This was Fred's undertaking, and I'm going to see it through to completion. I'll not presume to direct the drive itself in any way. That will be strictly up to the two of you. The route we take, the speed at which we proceed, all the decisions regarding the herd and anything to do with them will be completely under your control. And I'll pay you twenty-five cents a head to get them to Abilene. Each."

They'd decided weeks ago that the honorable thing to do was take the job, even if it paid nothing. To hear that they could make between two thousand and twenty-five hundred dollars each merely sweetened the pot beyond their expectations.

So there was no decision left to make. "Yes, ma'am, we'll take the job," Bret agreed, in answer to her offer.

"And when do you want to start?" Bart questioned.


	2. Shot Through the Heart

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 2 – Shot Through the Heart

Althea answered Bart's question of when to begin the cattle drive with one of her own. "How long will it take to pick a crew?"

"Depends," was the standard answer, and that was the one given now. "You still have the funds to put a crew together?"

"Yes, Bret, I do. The thief didn't take that, just something more precious. There were six hands from the Branford spread and three from Smithfield's that are still willing to go, and three from our ranch. Plus I've got a cook. How many more will you need?"

"Six or seven, plus a wrangler or two. Any ideas?"

Bart spoke up. "How about the Walker place? They've always got three or four more hands than they need at any one time."

"That probably works, then we can check in town and see if there's anybody sober enough at the saloons to sign on. And we'll see if Lily Mae knows of anybody."

Althea Taylor set down her coffee cup. "You don't know what this means to me. Fred told me I could always count on the two of you if I needed anything. He'd be so pleased to know just how right he was." She shook Bret's hand, then Bart's. "I'll be in touch in the next day or two. Let me know what you find out from Lily Mae. And please thank her for me, she's been a big help through all of this."

Both Mavericks stood; Bret showed the widow to the door. "We'll come out to the ranch tomorrow. We'll wanna see what you've got in the way of supplies and livestock. If that's alright with you."

Althea placed her hand on Bret's arm, and it was like lightening shot through him. "Thank you, Bret. Come anytime. I can have lunch for you and Bart, or supper if that's better."

"Lunch is fine, Althea. We'll see you tomorrow." He helped her up into the buggy and then watched as she drove away. "What are you smiling about?" he asked his brother as he closed the door.

"Oh, nothin' much," Bart answered. "You think we can find anybody worth havin' at 'Maude's' tonight?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. There's more than one saloon to check, ya know."

"We could drag Beau with us. It might be good for him."

Bret shook his head. "With the shape he's still in? I don't wanna be responsible for an untrained drover. We're gonna have enough problems as it is, with a herd that big. No, let him stay here with Pappy and Uncle Ben. Maybe by the time we get back we can get him outta here."

"Okay, Mr. Trail Boss. I see your point. I'm goin' to get ready to go to town. In case we need some extra time to 'recruit' willing cowboys. You comin'?"

"I'll be along in a minute. I wanna talk to Lily Mae."

XXXXXXXX

It didn't take Bret long to track Lily Mae down in the kitchen. "Mrs. Taylor wanted me to thank you for all the help you've given her."

"Aw, that's fine. She's a real sweetheart. The poor child had nobody to help her, and two burials to take care of. I was glad to help."

"I thought her pappy was the new barber. Where was he?"

"Bret Maverick, you know how useless men are when it comes to that kind of thing. Arthur was there, but nothing but moral support."

"Ah-ha. Tell me what you know about Althea."

"Althea is it, already? You stay away from her, you wolf in sheep's clothing. She's had enough heartbreak in the last six months to last a person a lifetime. She doesn't need you runnin' after her right now."

"Now, Lily Mae. Bart and I are gonna trail boss the cattle drive for her. I just wanna know who I'm workin' for, that's all." He tried giving her his best 'Bart Maverick puppy-dog' look.

"Don't you pull that stuff on me, mister. That look only works when it's comin' from your brother. I know an ulterior motive when I see one."

"Lily Mae, you wound me. Would I have an ulterior motive?"

A roar of laughter from the housekeeper. "No, you'd probably have several. Alright, what do you wanna know?"

"Everything you can tell me," said with a sly smile.

"She's an only child, lost her mother when she was nine or ten. Met Fred when her daddy started cuttin' his hair. Fell hard and fast. They were gonna get married anyway when she turned up . . . . . well, you know. Lost the baby after the wedding, then she lost Fred. Looks like Miss Dainty-flower, but she's got a backbone of iron. Seems to get whatever she sets her mind on. Anythin' else you wanna know, mister nosy-pants?"

He thought about the way she looked – beautiful copper curls, strictly confined by widow's black, silvery-grey blue eyes, taller than she'd looked from a distance, with, no doubt, a quick mind. The kind of woman who would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you no matter the hardships you encountered. "Nope, that's good. Thanks, Lily Mae. I appreciate it."

Lily Mae watched Bret turn and walk back into the main room of the house, then upstairs to his bedroom. _'What was all that about?'_ she wondered. _'Surely not – no, not Bret.'_

XXXXXXXX

Bart was dressed and ready to go a long time before his brother, so he knocked on Beau's door and heard a faint, "Come in."

"That doesn't sound a whole lot better than it did yesterday," Bart remarked to his cousin, who was buried under a myriad of blankets.

"Don't come any closer," Beau managed to get out. 'Whatever this is, you don't want it."

"You're right about that," Bart answered. "Just wanted to let you know that Althea Taylor finally came by today, offered Bret and I the trail boss positions. She's got a big enough herd to need both of us."

"You goin'?"

"Yeah, got to. For Fred, ya know." Bart shook his head. "I can't believe Fred's gone. Shot in his own house. What's this country comin' to?"

"When do you leave?"

"That's still up in the air. Gonna go out to the ranch tomorrow and take a look at the situation. I'll know more then. The widow Taylor is a right-fetching woman."

"Hands off, Cousin. She belonged to Fred."

"Don't tell me that, Beau. Tell my brother. Bret seemed almost mesmerized by her. He appears to have a soft spot for widows," thinking back to Marybeth. "I'll try and keep an eye on him."

"You do that. He needs a keeper."

"Hey now, I wouldn't go that far." Bart took a step towards the bed, then thought better of it. "You understand why we didn't ask you, don't you?"

Beau coughed before he answered. "Yeah, that's not my field of expertise. I missed the classes on cattle driving. I'll leave that to the real Texas boys."

"You're as Texas as we are, Beau. Don't pretend you're not."

"Okay, cousin. I'm too miserable to argue."

"Get better, okay? Like to see you up and around before we go."

"Yes, sir."

Bart left Beau to drift off back to sleep and went to Bret's room. His knock was met with a mumbled, "Yeah, I'm comin'."

When Bret opened the door, Bart whistled at him. "You're too purty to be a trail boss, mister."

"At least I don't look like a saddle tramp," came the slightly prickly reply.

"Hey, Brother Bret, sorry. Wasn't tryin' to be insulting."

"I know, Bart. I'm just worried about what we've committed to."

"Just a cattle drive, Bret, nothin' life threatening."

Bret followed his brother down the hall, on the way to downstairs. "I sure hope you're right. Somehow things always seem to go wrong. You think maybe just once - ?"

Bart shook his head. "Nope. That'd be too easy."


	3. Gathering the Sheep

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 3 – Gathering the Sheep

Bart had deliberately dressed for traveling rather than gambling, hoping it would be easier to find men who were willing to sign on as drovers or wranglers on a cattle drive. He headed for the 'Horseshoe Bar & Poker Palace' to see who was available and dependable. There he ran across Joe Fisher, who he'd served in the Confederate army with, and Terry Ransworth, another friend from school, and convinced both of them to join up. He didn't have as much luck with Patrick Duff, who'd worked part-time for the Mavericks, but Duff at least said he'd consider it.

Bart really didn't want to go to the 'LB Bar', he'd spent far too much time inside while growing up and knew what he was in for if he went back in after all these years. But he reminded himself why he and Bret were doing this, and finally walked into the place. Nothing much had changed in all the years he'd been absent; Ray was still tending bar, there was a new girl persuading cowboys to buy her drinks, and the same old cracked floorboards were still in place on the floor.

The first time Pappy had ever let Bart come with him to play poker, it had been right here to the 'Little Bend Bar.' He was ten years old, and Brother Bret was spending the night at Cousin Beau's house. Pappy had a choice to make – stay home or take Bart with him when he went to town. That was an easy decision, and Bart stepped inside a real-life saloon for the first time. Oh, he and Bret had sat in on plenty of Pappy's poker games before, but never inside a saloon. He was fascinated by all the men playing cards and sat quietly in a chair by the door and watched for hours. Soon he was a regular visitor to the 'LB Bar', as everyone in town called it, and it wasn't long before he was allowed to sit in on a game now and again. Poker came to him naturally, having started playing it with his father and brother at home when he was around two years old.

He would never forget the night he got a split lip right in this very room. It was one of the nights he was allowed to sit in on a game and he'd begun winning as soon as he started playing. One of the poker players was a cowboy who'd already had far too much to drink and kept right on drinking as they played and finally got tired of losing to a ten-year-old. After Bart beat him with three kings to his two pair he jumped up and accused the boy of cheating. As he was to do the rest of his life, Bart tried to talk his way out of it by reasoning with the man. The cowboy would have none of it, no matter how polite the boy was, and finally backhanded the youngster. When Bart hit the wooden floor he split the lip, and before he could get back on his feet his father had the cowboy on the ground, pounding his head against the same wood.

"Don't (bang) you (bang) ever (bang) accuse (bang) my son (bang) of cheating (bang bang) again. He wasn't (bang) raised (bang) that (bang) way (bang). What kind of a man hits children?" Three of Pappy's friends pulled him off the cowboy, who was going to have a headache for a week, and told him to run for his life while they held Beauregard back. When they finally turned Pappy loose he helped Bart up off the ground, pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the blood away, kissed his son on the head and sent him back to the poker table.

Ray looked up from the bar and a big grin spread across his face. "As I live and breathe, if it ain't Bart Maverick. Still havin' trouble with that lip?"

Bart laughed and shook hands with Ray. "Naw, Ray, kiss all the girls just fine. Place looks the same. How's everything goin'?"

The bartender shook his head as he reached for a cup and the coffee pot. "Not good. Things don't get better pretty quick ole Benny's gonna close 'er down." Benny White was, and always had been the saloon's owner.

"Aw, Benny's been threatenin' that for years. This place'll fall down before he closes it down."

"Naw, Bart, he's serious this time. Says he's gettin' too old to worry about it anymore. Guess I'll have to go get me a job at the 'Horseshoe'. Too old to work at 'Maude's'. But you didn't come in here to talk about that. What can I do for you tonight? I know you're not here for the whiskey!" as Ray poured him a cup of coffee.

"Runnin' a cattle drive, Ray, lookin' for drovers and wranglers. Know anybody might be interested?"

Ray nodded. "As a matter of fact, I do. Two boys just got let go from Pinehurst. Just don't have the business right now. That's Vinny and Teddy Roycefield. Brothers, good kids, remind me of you and Bret. Sittin' over there in the corner, all quiet like, not botherin' nobody. Check with them. Tell 'em I sent you over."

Bart laid a coin on the bar. "Thanks for the coffee, Ray, and the tip."

He crossed the old wooden floor and stood behind an empty chair at the table. "Roycefields?"

The brother closest to him looked up. "We didn't do it."

"Name's Maverick. Heard you boys might be lookin' for a job. Mind if I sit down?"

The other brother pushed his hat back and gestured at an empty chair. "Have a seat, Mr. Maverick. I'm Teddy Roycefield, this is my ugly brother Vinny. We are looking for jobs, as of today as a matter of fact. What do you need?"

"I've got a cattle drive to Abilene. Pays forty dollars a month, with a horse and a pair of boots at the end of the drive. You interested?"

"Drovers or wranglers?" The question came from Vinny.

"Drovers, if you've got experience. I'm Bart, by the way. My brother Bret and I are runnin' this drive for the Taylors."

"Drovers," Vinny answered, and Teddy added, "We were just on one before goin' to work at Pinehurst. Their season's over, we were gonna move on. Glad we stopped here first. When you startin'?"

"Within the week," Bart answered. "You got a place to bunk until then?"

Teddy shook his head. "Not since leavin' Pinehurst."

"Alright, head on out to the old Maverick place, the little ranch, not the big one. Belongs to my Pappy. You can stay there until we go. I'll be by day after next to let you know when. Good enough?"

"Good enough, Mr. Maverick. Bart. And thanks." Teddy reached across the table and shook hands with Bart, then Vinny did the same.

"Yeah, thanks," Vinny added. "We'll be ready to go."

"Alright, catch ya later," Bart old them as he rose from the table. He'd been fairly successful, after all. Joe Fisher, Terry Ransworth, now the Roycefields, and maybe Patrick Duff. Bart gave the high sign to Ray and walked out of the saloon, feeling much better than he had the night he got his lip split wide open. He hoped Bret had been just as successful.

XXXXXXXX

Bret's luck was not as good as Bart's. Only man he could get to join them was Bobby Tilford, who'd just gotten back to Little Bend from two years at Fort Benning and was willing to do anything that paid actual wages. He had a friend named Harvey Fanta who might come along, too, but he wouldn't know until he talked to Harvey tomorrow. Bret finally gave up and started playing poker, which is what he was doing when Maude and Doralice walked in, about ten thirty. Doralice kissed him on the cheek and asked about Bart.

"He'll be by later. We're out lookin' for drovers and wranglers. Or at least he is. I've given up."

'Are you still lookin'?" Maude asked.

"Yes, ma'am, just seems like nobody's interested. You got any ideas?"

Maude rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I just might. You still got room for two more?"

"You produce 'em, I'll sign 'em," Bret answered. "When will you know?"

"This time tomorrow. Come on by tomorrow night."

Doralice interrupted. "You gonna run Althea's cattle drive?"

Bret threw his cards down. "I'm out." He got up and followed Maude and Doralice into the office. "You know Althea Taylor?"

"We've gotten to be friends," Doralice answered. "She's a fine young woman. Tough break, her husband gettin' killed."

"Fred Taylor was a friend of ours," Bart offered, as he appeared in the doorway.

"Bart!" Doralice went scampering over and kissed her guardian angel on the cheek. Bart looked disappointed.

"Is that any way to greet your personal rescuer?"

"No, sir, I guess it's not appropriate, is it?" She went back over and really kissed him this time, and when they broke apart both were laughing.

"Much better!" Bart declared. "I got four, maybe five," he informed his brother. "How'd you do?"

"Only one," Bret answered, obviously discouraged.

"Maybe two more," Maude added. "I think they'll go."

"Well then, we could have our seven or eight."

"Yes, we could," and then Bret added, "And on that note I'm goin' home."

"Awful early for you, isn't it Brother Bret?"

"Tired," came the reply as Bret tipped his hat to the ladies and left the office. Bart watched him walk out the batwing doors and laughed.

"Is it a secret?" Doralice asked.

"I think he's got it bad for your friend Althea."

"But, she was just widowed!" Doralice announced, surprised.

Bart shrugged. "Bret never picks the easy ones. Could be I'm wrong."

"No, I don't think so," Maude told him. "His eyes lit up when Althea got mentioned."

"Oh dear."

"Something wrong?" Doralice asked.

"Mrs. Taylor is going on the cattle drive with us."


	4. Southern Fried Chicken

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 4 – Southern Fried Chicken

"Aren't you ready yet? I've been waitin' for an hour!" That, of course, was an exaggeration, although not much of one. Bart knew exactly why it was taking his brother so long to get ready, and it was easy to understand – Althea Taylor. Deny it though he might, Bret had fallen long and hard for the woman.

That was unusual, to say the least. Bret Maverick was attracted to plenty of women – he always had been. But he kept his own heart well protected; not falling in love easily, like Bart seemed to. So it amused his brother to see the older Maverick so smitten with someone – and for a woman that had married one of his childhood friends, no less.

Finally Bart could stand it no longer and went downstairs. Lily Mae was easy to find, and always willing to lend an ear. She wasn't surprised to hear about the sudden interest in Mrs. Taylor – she'd worried that was just where Bret's heart was headed when he'd peppered her with questions the previous day. She was not happy to hear about the speed with which he seemed to have fallen for the young widow, however, and made her feelings known to his brother.

"Mr. B, it's just not a good time. Althea's still grievin' Fred – she sure isn't gonna get wrapped up with another man so soon. Where's your brother's head, anyway?"

"I don't think his head's entered into the matter at all, Lily Mae. I could see it happen right in front of me. It's almost like – well, I hate to say it."

"Like what, Mr. B?"

"It's almost like she cast some sort of spell over him, Lily. I've never seen him fall that fast. Not ever. Not my brother."

"Not your brother, what?" asked same brother.

"My brother never takes that long to get ready," offered Bart, covering nicely.

"Well, I did, and I'm ready now, so let's go." Bret leaned over and kissed Lily Mae on the cheek. "Bye, Lilly. Take extra special care of Beau today, would ya? I heard him coughin' practically all night."

"He's run down," Lily Mae answered, and went back to stirring the soup she had cooking.

"Come on, Mr. B," Bret prompted his brother, using Lily Mae's term of affection. "Horses saddled?"

"What do you think?" Bart asked.

"I hope they are. What? You're smiling that smile again. What's that for?"

The younger gambler just shook his head as they walked out the front door. The horses were indeed saddled, Bart having gotten so bored some time ago that he took care of that task. Mounted and ready to go, they headed for the Taylor Ranch, a path they knew well from school days.

The spread looked much improved over the old days. Fred had put in a new corral and expanded the house to accommodate the growing family. He'd practically rebuilt the barn, and was working on a vegetable garden when the attempted robbery occurred.

Althea had not only acquired a cook for the cattle drive, but she'd also procured a chuck wagon, as well. And about 30 extra horses for the drovers. "I'm goin' to check the barn and see what we're lookin' at," Bart told his brother and headed Noble off in that direction. Bret rode up to the house and dismounted, tying his horse to the hitching rail. Across the porch to the door. Why did he feel nervous? This was nothing more than a business meeting.

Bret looked around at all the changes Fred made to the place, and for the very first time in his life felt woefully inadequate. He'd forgotten how good Fred was at building things. Bret was just as skilled with his hands but in an entirely different way. There wasn't anything he couldn't make the cards do for him, but when it came to remodeling buildings, he was useless.

Well, he'd just succeeded in making himself miserable. With nothing else left to do, he knocked on the door. "Coming!" he heard a lilting voice sing out, and when she answered the door he was pleasantly surprised. The widow's black was gone, and it had been replaced by a riding skirt and shirt. "Mr. Maverick. Bret! Please come in. Where's your brother?"

He tipped his hat to her. "Althea. Bart went to the barn to look over the supplies you've gathered. He'll be here shortly."

She opened the door wide. "Come in, Bret. I've got some sweet tea ready. Or would you prefer coffee?"

"The sweet tea is fine, Althea. Thank you."

He walked into the main room and couldn't believe the difference. Fred and or Sam had done a lot of work on the inside of the place, too. What had once been the only bedroom on the ground floor was now part of the main living space, and an entire upstairs, with all new bedrooms, was added. The fireplace was expanded and so was the 'kitchen.' "Fred did a lot of work on the house," Bret remarked. "Looks a lot different than it did when we were kids."

"Fred and Sam did a lot of that before we got married," she said proudly. "Somebody will enjoy it eventually, I'm sure."

"Aren't you going to stay here?" Bret asked, worried that she would leave town.

"No, I have no use for something this large. When the drive is over I'm coming back to sell the ranch, then move into town with my father."

"But what if you get married again? Won't you want a house then?"

"I've no doubt I will remarry, Bret. But I don't have to marry a rancher. I don't care what a man does, as long as he's happy doing it. Besides, I can live anywhere. But what about you? How long are you and Bart going to stay in Little Bend?"

"I don't know," he answered her honestly. "We probably woulda been gone by now if it weren't for Bart's health. I'm sure we'll leave once the drive is over."

"Do you always travel together?"

"No, not always. My brother tends to need more looking after than he's willing to admit. We may start out separately, but we seem to end up together. I had to look for him for an entire year the last time, just to find him."

Althea laughed and asked curiously, "How do you lose your brother?"

"Well, it's a long story. He was hurt pretty bad in a rock slide and woke up thinkin' he was somebody else."

"And you had to find him?"

"Yeah, he didn't know who I was the next time he saw me. And that was almost a year later. Course years before that I lost him for six months in Mexico."

"How did that happen?"

Bret got quiet. "That one was deliberate. His wife had just died – "

"His wife! Fred didn't tell me Bart was married!" Althea's eyes got big.

"Fred didn't know."

Althea got just as quiet as Bret had. "What happened?"

"Just like Fred and Sam, it was unexpected. Somebody came to kill the whole family; they ended up just killing Caroline, his wife."

"Did he see it happen?"

"Yeah. It happened right in front of him. Bart was shot, too."

"Did they catch the man?" There was pain and understanding and sympathy all wrapped up in her question.

"Bart killed him."

"Oh. Then he got to do something I didn't. I envy him."

Bret looked into her eyes and knew she meant it. "I'm sorry. This has gotta be hard on you."

"Only because Fred's killer got away. If only I'd been here when it happened!"

"You weren't? That's a good thing. He mightta killed you too."

"I sleep with a shotgun, Bret. And I know how to use it. Maybe I could have . . . . . . . " She'd been looking at the ground, but she raised her head defiantly. Her eyes were dry. "Maybe I could have killed the bastard."

Just then came the knock on the door, obviously Bart. Althea got up and hurried to open it. "Bart! We were just talking about you!"

"Is that good or bad? Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Althea chuckled, as did Bart, and she ushered him inside. "Brother Bret, we seem to be in pretty good shape. One last trip to the store in town should take care of everythin'. We need some more rope, and coffee. And a couple more lanterns, just to be safe."

"I forgot to warn you, Althea, Bart lives on coffee."

"I do not!" said with a chuckle.

She looked the thin Maverick up and down and laughed. "You must. You certainly don't live on food."

"Extenuating circumstances," Bart replied.

"Gentlemen, lunch is ready. Come on over here. We can finish the business after we eat." Althea shepherded them to the table and proceeded to bring out a plateful of fried chicken and cornbread for each of them. "Don't worry – it's Lily Mae's recipe."

Bret smiled as he picked up a piece of chicken. Althea must really be something special if Lily Mae was already giving her recipes. It just served to confirm the opinion he'd already formed.


	5. Old Friends

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 5 – Old Friends

Althea was a fast learner. Her chicken was every bit as good as Lily Mae's, and the cornbread while different, was delicious. Bart gave up first, and everybody had a good laugh because he'd eaten about half of what Althea put on his plate. Bret had no problem finishing, but that was Bret. When dessert was offered it was politely declined, with Bart announcing if he ate another bite he would explode and Bret would have to run the drive by himself.

Althea wouldn't let either brother help her clear the table, so they started trying to figure out just how many drovers they had at this point. "Althea said there were six from Branford, three from Smithfield's and three from right here. Then there's Joe Fisher, Terry Ransworth, Vinny and Teddy Roycefield, and Bobby Tilford. That's seventeen, plus the two of us. Maude might have two more, and we haven't checked with the Walker ranch yet. If we can get Maude's and two from Walker's that makes twenty-three altogether. Can we run it with a group like that?" Bart was willing to defer to Bret when it came to the number of drovers they'd need for a herd this size.

"I think so. I'd like to get two extra to run with us as wranglers, maybe teach 'em to be drovers in a pinch. When we leave here I'll go to Walker's and see how many are comin' from there. You got somethin' to do?"

"Yeah, go by Pappy's place and talk to the Roycefields. Told 'em I'd come by and let 'em know when we're goin'. So whatta ya figure, four days from now?"

Bret thought for a minute. "No, better make it five. Althea's cook won't be in until Thursday, that still gives us a couple days for last minute details. We'll know tonight about Maude's men. That's all I got. Anything else?" He looked at Bart, who shook his head 'no.' Then he turned to Althea, who'd come back to the table. "You have any questions?"

Althea nodded. "What about clothes? How much do I need, and what?"

Bret laughed. "Just what you've got on. Three days' worth, no more. Two or three hats. And at least two pairs of good, thick gloves. Are you ridin' a horse or goin' with the cook?"

"I'm riding. I couldn't stand to sit in a wagon that long. Is that it?"

"A good heavy coat, just in case. And a lighter jacket. Two scarves, a heavy one and a lighter weight, something that'll filter out dust and dirt. That's about all. Unless there's somethin' you just can't live without?"

Althea shook her head. "I don't have anything anymore that I can't live without. So five days from now, gentleman?"

"Yes, ma'am. We'll be ready. Cattle all good to go?"

"All good to go, Bart. My cook will be in on Thursday morning's stage. He and I can shop for anything we still need before we come back to the ranch. That leaves us Friday for any last minute work to be done."

"I think we're set, Althea. Anything else, Bart?"

"Nope. I'm goin' to talk to the Roycefields. I'll see you later, Bret. Althea, thank you for the lunch. It was delicious. I'll see myself out." Bart tipped his hat to Althea and left.

The two sitting at the table watched Bart go silently out the door and heard Noble whinny before riding off. Bret shook his head. "I'm worried about him, Althea. His gunshot wounds still aren't completely healed. I'm hopin' he doesn't have any trouble out there."

The widow turned to face her trail boss. "You worry about him an awful lot, don't you?"

Bret's head nodded affirmatively. "Yep, all the time. He's the only brother I've got. Sometimes he gets mad and calls me 'Pappy.' That's alright, sometimes I feel like I raised him." Pause. "Hell, I did raise him."

"Where was your father?"

"After momma died, out tryin' to make a livin'. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I just wish he wasn't so . . . . . disaster prone. The perfect cattle drive would be one where my brother finishes it in one piece for a change."

Bret had clenched his hands on the table while talking, and Althea placed one of hers over his. When she touched him, that same jolt shot through him. It was the damnedest thing he'd ever felt. "Don't worry so much, Pappy."

It was funny to hear her call him that; he laughed out loud. And she laughed right along with him.

XXXXXXXX

True to the word he'd given the night before, Bart rode to the house he was raised in to see the Roycefields. They'd cleared the weeds from the paddock, where their horses now grazed, and repaired the fence outside the barn. They'd been busy, and Bart was truly impressed. This looked like a fortunate move for all involved.

As Bart rode up, Teddy came out to greet him. 'Hey, we're just cookin' some supper. You hungry?"

Bart laughed and shook his head as he dismounted. "No, food is the last thing I need right now. But thanks anyway. Just came by to let you know we're all set to go. Leavin' in five days. Looks like we've got over twenty drovers. Still lookin' to add a couple wranglers if you know anybody. Train 'em as drovers if they want to learn. Thirty dollars a month, same deal with the horse and boots. You know anybody, send 'em over to Ben Maverick's place. That's my uncle's house, where we're all stayin'."

"Yeah, there might be somebody. There was a kid at Pinehurst. Sixteen, seventeen. Tall and skinny. Name's Ned Southern. Wants to be a drover, but he's got a real way with horses. He old enough?"

"Long as he can ride he's old enough. I was chasin' cows when I was thirteen. That's why I decided I didn't wanna spend my life doin' it. Send him over to see us. We're up and around about five at night."

"Alright. I'll go over in the mornin' an talk to Ned. See if he wants to go. Anythin' else you need?"

"Just for the two of you to show up. Go on down this road and take a right at the first split. Big house is Ben's. Be there at sunup Saturday. We'll go from there. You need anything before then, come on over. Lily Mae's the housekeeper, she's always home. We good?"

Teddy stuck his hand out to shake Bart's. "We're good, Bart. Thanks for everythin'. We'll be there."

"See you Saturday."

Bart climbed up on Noble and winced as he settled on the horse. The pain from the gunshot wounds was still there sometimes, and this was one of those moments. He turned the gelding back down the way he'd come and headed to his uncle's house, hoping that the soreness would be gone by the time they got out on the trail. If it wasn't –

He wasn't going to think about that right now. He was more concerned about Bret, and what he found out at the Walker Ranch. Bart hurried home to see if they did have enough hands to run the drive effectively.

XXXXXXXX

The Walker Ranch was everything you'd want in a spread. Big, handsome house. Bunkhouse almost as large. Well-built barn; enough space to accommodate all the animals you could think of. The Walkers had no sons, but they'd raised three daughters around Bret and Bart's age – Winnie, Sally and Jo. The girls were all tomboys growing up, and they could ride and shoot as well as any of their contemporaries. Bret hadn't seen them since he and Bart left Little Bend.

There was a young woman sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, knitting and watching two little blonde-haired boys chase each other in the yard. Bret rode up and dismounted, tying his horse to the railing. He went up the steps and tipped his hat, taking a guess as to the identity of the woman. "Miss Winnie?"

She looked up from her knitting and smiled a warm, friendly smile. "Bret Maverick. As I live and breathe. I'd know those dimples anywhere! Come up here and sit down. What are you doin' here?" She finished her question by standing up and kissing him on the cheek, then sitting back down after making sure that he sat in the rocker next to her.

"I came to find out if you've got any spare hands this time a year that can go with us to Abilene? Bart and I are gonna run the Taylor cattle drive and I'm still lookin' for drovers."

"Why Bret, you know we do. We always carry three or four extra men this time of year, just waitin' for spring. Your brother's with you? That rascal, where'd you hide him? I've got two sisters still lookin' to marry a Maverick man!"

Bret pointed out in the yard. "I take it those are yours?"

"Yes sir, twins. John and Jesse. Their daddy's Will Neary, my husband. Will moved to town about the time you boys left. He's out with Daddy this afternoon., roundin' up strays with the rest of the boys. You hafta meet him."

"So you didn't wait for me after all?" Bret teased her. Winnie had always sworn up and down that she was going to marry Bret someday.

"No sir, I got tired of waitin' for you and Bart to come back. I wasn't gettin' any younger and Will, well I just couldn't resist. Best thing I ever did. Sally and Jo are holdin' out for your brother. He still available?"

"Yeah, Bart's still unattached, just like me. You know there's never been anybody could hold a candle to the Walker sisters."

Winnie laughed, the same happy sound she'd made as a girl. "So you're takin' over for Fred, huh? Good, glad somebody's gonna help Althea. From the expression on your face I assume you know her?"

"Yes, we've met. Can't believe Fred's gone." Bret had always liked Winnie but it troubled him that she'd seen something in his expression when she brought up Althea's name. "She came and asked us to take over, and we agreed. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Bret. Althea is a sweetheart of a girl. There's just somethin' about her that makes men's eyes glaze over when they meet her. Has Bart fallen under her spell, too?"

Bret shook his head. "Nope. I think he's had enough romantic complications to keep him occupied for a while. So when's you daddy gonna be here to talk to about the men?"

'Tomorrow night. Why don't you and Bart come to supper, about six? Sally and Jo can fawn over Bart and you can meet Will and talk to Daddy."

"Sounds good, Winnie. I'll warn Brother Bart to wear his armor so he'll be protected from your sisters. I gotta get home now, honey, we'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then rose and tipped his hat to his childhood girlfriend. "Marriage looks good on you, Winnie. Will's a lucky man."

"Yes he is, Bret Maverick. See what you lost out on?" She laughed again, good-natured as Winnie always was, and gave him a little wave before turning her attention elsewhere. "John, stop chasing your brother. Jesse, put the stick down." She turned back to Bret for just a moment. "Oh God, were we that wild?"

"You weren't. Bart and I were. We'll see you tomorrow, Winnie."

Bret mounted his horse and turned towards home. _'That was productive,'_ he thought to himself. _'Now, if Maude's got two more for us . . . . . . '_

.


	6. Worry is My Middle Name

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 6 – Worry is my Middle Name

Bart was pleased when Bret gave him the news about the Walkers. And didn't seem to mind at all that Sally and Jo were still single and would be at dinner. Now if they could pick up the two men Maude seemed so sure about they'd be in good shape for the drive.

One more night of poker playing and then back to keeping regular hours like everyone else in the universe not named Maverick. Uncle Bentley caught whatever it was Beau had and was wisely going to stay home and keep his son company. Pappy decided to ride in with Bret and Bart but opted to go to the 'Horseshoe' rather than 'Maude's' – there was a pretty little girl there who'd taken a particular shine to Pappy and he was more than happy to present her with his company. They agreed to meet at 'Mamie's' for breakfast at five o'clock and the brothers watched Pappy make his way across the street before entering 'Maude's'. "You know, Bret, he's gettin' old," Bart observed after watching his father.

"I know, Bart, and I think his rheumatism's botherin' him. But there's somethin' else goin' on that he's not talkin' about, and I can't figure out what it is. Haven't you noticed how . . . . . .quiet he is?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah, Pappy has been unusually easy to get along with. Spose its somethin' serious?"

"Don't know, maybe we can get Beau to keep an eye on him after we leave. Well, let's go see if Maude's got any news for us."

Harry saw them coming and poured coffee for them. "Maude's not here yet. Said she'd be in about ten and to make sure you're both here."

"Guess we might hafta play poker, huh Brother Bart?"

"Looks that way, Brother Bret. Let's see whose money we can take. I believe I see an empty seat. I'll be with you later." Bart made his way to one of the back tables, and was welcomed in. Bret saw nothing that appealed until Bobby Tilford caught his eye and signaled him over.

"Bret, I talked to Harvey Fanta this afternoon. He's in if you still need him."

"Yeah, Bobby. Be glad to have him. At least Harvey's got experience with a drive."

"That he does. He could ride herd on cattle in his sleep."

Bret laughed. "Let's hope he doesn't have to."

Just then a woman walked up behind him and hooked her arm through his. It was Doralice Donovan. "Hi ya, handsome. Buy a girl a drink?"

"Sure, Doralice. Where's your mother?"

"She had some late business. She'll be along soon. I think she got the drovers you're lookin' for."

"Great. That should just about take care of it. Althea will be pleased."

Bret walked her over to an empty table and they sat down. Harry came over with the coffee pot and another cup. "You too?" Bret questioned, pointing to the coffee cup in front of her.

"Yeah, too early in the day for me. Say, speaking of Althea Taylor – "

"Were we?"

"We are now. You must have made quite an impression on Mrs. Taylor. I saw her at the store earlier this evening and she was positively glowing. I haven't seen her like that before."

"Probably just excited about the drive," Bret attempted to brush it off.

"I don't think so, Mr. Maverick. I think I'm talkin' to the reason for it."

"Don't even think that. She just lost her husband. He was a friend of mine."

Doralice threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah, when you were fifteen years old. That was a while ago."

Bret wasn't willing to give up yet. "Still – "

"Still nothin'. Life goes on. Fred's gone. She's alive, and so are you. Don't waste it." She lowered her voice and pulled him closer so he would hear her. "You're talkin' to one who knows, Bret. Don't learn that lesson the hard way."

He opened his mouth to say something and there, in the back of his mind, was Marybeth. He took a drink of coffee instead. Maybe Doralice was right, but he wasn't ready to find out. At least not while they were still in Little Bend.

"How are you doin' these days?" he asked.

"I'm alright. I'm still gettin' used to sleepin' through the night. How's Bart?"

"Good enough to be over there playin' poker," Bret told her, as he pointed to the table in the back.

"Good enough to play poker, but - what are you not sayin'?" Doralice had always been bright and perceptive, and now was no exception.

Bret shook his head. "I'm probably imagining things."

"What things?"

"I hear him, sometimes, coughin' his insides out."

"Any more blood?" Doralice asked, remembering the bleeding back in Mexico.

"I don't know," Bret told her. "He hasn't coughed in front of me, but I can hear him in his room when we're normally asleep."

"The way that bullet got him, it probably caught a lung. If the coughing is all – "

"It's not," Bret interrupted. "It's just the most obvious."

"It's enough to make you worry." She reached over and laid her hand on his arm.

"Maybe too much," he admitted.

"Are you gonna say anything to him?"

"Nope. Not unless I've got somethin' more to go on. I've got other things to worry about right now."

"Like a certain recently widowed lady?" There was a smile on her face as she asked the question.

"No. Like how to get ten thousand head of cattle from here to Abilene and not lose any of 'em, or get anybody hurt. With a brand new crew that's never worked together before."

"Should be easy," she told him.

Before Bret could say anything he felt another hand on his back. "You here to see me, gamblin' man?"

"Maude, I was here to play poker, but I haven't started that yet. So I guess the answer is 'yes', I'm here to see you."

"Good. I've got good news for you. Where's the other brother?" Maude asked.

As if on cue, Bart stood up from the poker table he was sitting at and walked over to the Donovan table.

"Heard us talkin' about ya?" Maude wondered.

"Sure," Bart grinned. "I could hear you all the way across this noisy saloon."

"Let's go in the office." Maude waved at Harry, who grabbed the coffee pot and clean cups and followed them in.

Maude had added a table and chairs to her office and three of them sat at the table. Harry poured fresh coffee for the men and Doralice and Maude brought the brandy and a glass over from her desk. Harry left the coffee pot but closed the door on his way out, and things got considerably quieter. "You're gangin' up on me," Maude laughed, pointing at the coffee cups all around.

"We're workin' tonight, Maude," Bart stated. "At least one of us was."

Bret ignored his brother's remark. "You got the men we were after? Who are they?"

"Joe Sanders and Dixie Walker. Joe worked for Linden Hayes for six years before Linden sold his place to the Burke's. Dixie is his partner, they've been out pickin' up strays for the Burke's for several weeks. Burke doesn't wanna hire any hands on permanent till spring, so Joe and Dixie just been fillin' in. They're happy to work for you two rather than bummin' around here for three or four months tryin' to find somethin' to do."

"I know Joe," Bret interjected. "He was here the last time I came down to visit Pappy and Ben. Seemed like a good enough fella. Don't know Dixie. Where they stayin'?"

"Over at our house," Doralice answered. "Mom put 'em up in the spare room. They've been with us for a couple weeks."

"I've known Joe for years," Maude volunteered. "Anytime I needed anything fixed at the house Joe was always there to do it for me, wouldn't take any money. I figure the least I could do was let 'em stay with me till somethin' turned up. But I had to go home and ask 'em about goin' on the drive before I could make any commitments for 'em. Does that do it? Have you got enough men now?"

"Yeah, I think we should be set for drovers. Still lookin' for another wrangler, though. Course we can always use one of the drovers to herd the horses. One less man won't make that much difference."

"Thanks for the help, Maude. One less thing to worry about now," Bret added as he looked over at Doralice. She knew exactly what he meant.

"Brother Bret, I'm goin' over to the 'Horseshoe' to tell Joe and Terry when and where to meet on Saturday. I'll be back later. Maude, thanks for the coffee. Doralice, walk me out?"

Doralice got up and slid her arm through Bart's. "Sure, cowboy, I'll go with ya." She giggled and they left the office, closing the door behind them.

"Alright Bret, what's goin' on?"

"Maude, have you noticed anything different about Pappy lately?"

"You mean other than the fact that he's got himself a girlfriend over at the 'Horseshoe' and hasn't been in here for a week?"

"Yeah, other than that."

"No, not really. Why, what's wrong?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I just know somethin's not right."

"Last time he was in he was perfectly fine. Bret, why don't you just ask him, if you think there's somethin' wrong?"

"Because he's Pappy, and he wouldn't give me a straight answer."

"That's no reason."

"It is if you're Beauregard Maverick."


	7. De-Zert

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 7 – De-Zert

They sat at 'Mamie's' until almost half-past five and still no Pappy. Finally Bret and Bart apologized, paid Jenny for the coffee and the breakfast they should have gotten, and left. "Back to the 'Horseshoe'?" Bret asked.

"Back to the 'Horseshoe'," Bart responded.

They walked back down the street to the saloon and went inside. There was one drunken cowboy sleeping it off in a chair in the corner and two others standing at the bar talking. No Pappy. The bartender, named Cecil, looked up at them. "Mavericks?" he asked.

"That would be us," came Bret's reply.

"Looking for Beauregard?"

The brothers exchanged looks. "Yes, sir."

"He left you a note," and Cecil handed it to Bart, who got to the bar first. He read it out loud: _'Dear Boys – There isn't a damn thing wrong with me. And I'm not dead yet. Go home. Pappy.'_

In years to come there would be a never-ending debate about who laughed first and who laughed loudest. It didn't really matter; when they'd stopped guffawing they thanked Cecil and left. "Are you done worryin' now, Brother Bret?"

"For the moment. He coulda just told us."

Bart slapped his brother on the back. "Ah, but it's much funnier this way. Pappy's sittin' someplace laughin' his butt off at us."

"I wonder if that's all he's doin'."

"He's a big boy, Bret. Maybe he was tryin' to teach us that he'd tell us if there was somethin' wrong?"

"Oh yeah, because this family is so open and honest with each other?"

Bart pretended to look indignant. "We are."

"Are we?"

"Sure we are. What's that look?"

"Nothin.' Just nothin'."

Bart knew exactly what the look was for, but also knew his brother well enough to assume, correctly, that Bret wouldn't say anything about his coughing if he didn't. "Let's go home," was what Bart offered instead, and Bret nodded.

"Good idea."

When they exited the saloon and crossed the street it was immediately apparent that Pappy's horse was gone. "Well, wherever he is, he's not alone," Bart commented.

XXXXXXXX

It seemed odd, yet somehow perfectly right, to be riding to the Walker Ranch. Bart hadn't been there since he and Bret left Little Bend to fight in the Confederate Army, not their idea, but it looked almost the same to him. All the changes made to the house were done in the back, so the differences weren't visible until entering the house. Bret knocked on the door, and it was immediately pulled open by George Walker, affectionately known by one and all as Papa George, no matter the age or relationship of the person addressing him.

"Well I'll be danged, my Winnie was tellin' the truth! Bret and Bart Maverick, as I live and breathe. Come in, boys, come in. Bret, good to see you again. Bart, my God, let me look at you! You're sure not the gangly young man that left Little Bend all those years ago. Girls, look what finally showed up at our door!"

The whole time Papa George had been talking he was shaking hands, first with Bret, then Bart, and ushering them into the house. Both were now taller than George Walker, but they both remembered a time when he towered over them. They were scarcely in the door when two whirling dervishes known as 'Little Trouble' and 'Littler Trouble' came flying at them. Though now grown women, they were easy to tell apart. Sally, Little Trouble, was still freckled and the taller of the two, with soft dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes. Her sister Jo, Littler Trouble, was petite and porcelain skinned, with her father's brunette curls and Blueish-green eyes. They squealed just as much as they had when small, only at a slightly lower volume.

Winnie stayed further in the background, next to a man that had to be her husband Will Neary. They made a good looking couple, Winnie being the tallest of the three girls, with soft brown hair and kind eyes. Will was tall like Winnie and blonde, and had his arm wrapped around her. There was no sign of the twins, or the girls' mother, Nell Walker.

The changes and additions to the house soon became apparent. An entire third story had been added on in the back, and that was the floor that belonged to Winnie and Will. It kept them in the house with the rest of the family but gave them complete privacy. After all the hugs and kisses and greetings had been exchanged, Bret asked about John and Jesse. "Already put to bed," came Winnie's answer, "although I doubt they'll stay there. You think my sisters were trouble when they were young, they were nothing compared to the boys. The only good thing is they're so full of energy that they wear themselves out every day. You two don't know what you're missing out on."

"I think that's the way we'll keep it, Winnie," Bart explained. "Wrestling a deck of cards is about the most difficult thing either one of us wants to do."

"But that's not what we heard," Sally offered.

"We heard about adventures in Mexico, and Montana, and Arizona. But your pappy sure is stingy with details," added Jo.

"Remember, ladies, not all things in life are meant to be shared," Bret explained.

"Like getting married?" Jo asked.

Winnie spoke up. "That's none of your business, Josie Walker. Leave the man alone."

"No, Winnie, it's alright. Yes, ladies, I was married. It's a very long story about a very short marriage. But I'm not married now, and it's gonna stay that way." And Bart laughed, just to show that it really wasn't a forbidden subject.

Bret asked the next question, and it was one that caused a pall to descend on the room. "Where's Nell?"

All noise stopped. Nobody said anything for a minute or two and the answer became painfully obvious. George finally cleared his throat and explained. "About two years ago somethin' we'd never seen before swept through this valley. It took about twenty people away from us, and Nell was one of 'em. God bless her, she fought it to the end, but she never stood a chance. It was cholera."

Bret broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Papa George. Nell was almost like another mother to us. I never will forget the time Beau and Sally got into the hornet's nest and got all of us chased back here. Nell must have been goin' crazy with six of us stung all at once, but she took care of everybody and never lost her composure. She was a sweetheart."

"Yeah, mama was somethin' special," Winnie added. "At least she got to see John and Jesse born. I'm thankful for that."

"Just when do I get to meet the tiny terrors?" Bart asked.

"Oh, they usually show up right about the time suppers done and dessert is on the table," Will explained. "They seem to know just when Aunt Sally's pies are ready to eat." Everybody laughed, and Winnie got up, along with Sally and Jo.

"Speaking of dessert, ladies, I think we should serve supper. Gentlemen, go find yourselves a seat at the table."

Bart and Bret looked at each other, then at George, and all three laughed. "Yes, I remember the mad dash for the table when it came time for supper," George told them. "Do you still eat the way you used to, Bret?"

"You mean everything in sight? The answer is yes, he does," Bart explained.

"You didn't do so bad yourself, Bart, if I remember correctly," George recalled.

"Yeah, where did that appetite go?" Bret questioned. "Wait till you see him now. I don't know how he stays alive some of the time."

"That tends to come in handy when you're out of food in Mexico and the Federales are looking for you." Bart tried to defend himself.

"Were they really lookin' for you?" Will was curious.

"Oh yeah," Bart answered. "And I had a bullet hole in my back to show for the seriousness of their interest in me."

"And a hole in his head for takin' the job in the first place," Bret added.

Bart glared at his brother but said nothing. Supper was served and the conversation was steered towards more mundane things until the topic turned to the cattle drive. "How many drovers have you got so far, Bret?" George asked.

"Twenty-two, counting the two of us. Plus a wrangler. We need another one of those."

"So if we sent three more with you – "

"I think that would do quite nicely, Papa George. Unless you've got another wrangler you could spare."

"I can go as a wrangler," Will offered. "You told me I should get some cattle experience, Papa, besides just roundin' up strays. This is a good chance."

"No," Winnie was adamant. "I don't want you to go for that long."

"Winnie, it's not that long. And we'd take real good care of him," Bart promised.

"Yes, Mr. Maverick, I've heard just how you take care of people. If I was lucky he'd come back alive. If I wasn't – "

"He has a point, Winnie. It's Bart that gets hurt, not anybody else. Well, unless you're name is Doc Holliday and you run into a rock slide. In Arizona. Will should be in good shape. And we could use his help." Bret understood Winnie's reluctance, but he could see how eager Will was to join them on the drive.

"Thanks, Bret, I appreciate the support. Winnie?" The eagerness was in Will's voice as well as his eyes.

"I don't want you to go, Will. What if Papa needs help here?"

"Then I've got twenty or so ranch hands that are on the payroll. Let the man go, Winnie," George told his oldest daughter.

Winnie sighed, and the twins picked just that moment to come running down the two flights of stairs."Zert, Mama?" babbled John.

"De-zert, de-zert, de-zert, de-zert," chanted Jesse.

"Well, at least they know what they want," Bret remarked.

"John, Jesse, pay attention. If you want dessert you have to behave. Come over here, both of you. Stand still, John. I want you both to meet some friends of Mama's and Aunt Sally's and Auntie Jo's. This is Bret Maverick and his brother, Bart Maverick. I've known them since I was just a little older than you boys," Winnie told her sons. Both boys stood very solemn and extended their hands to the Maverick brothers.

"Howdjado," John managed.

"Howdy, partners," Jesse articulated.

After the hand-shaking was finished, John turned to his brother. "They don't punch cows," John stated.

"Nope," Jesse agreed. "They hands is soft."

"Sheep herders?" John speculated.

"Gamblers," Bart explained.

"Whazzat?" Jesse asked.

"We play cards for a living," Bret answered.

"Hmmpf, card sharps," from Jesse.

"Tin horns," John stated flatly.

"No, gentlemen," Bart explained. "Honest gamblers."

"Like Uncle Beau!"

"And Uncle Ben!"

"That's right," agreed Bret. "In fact, Uncle Beau is our Pappy. And Uncle Ben is our uncle, too."

"They're okay then," John told Jesse.

"De-zert, de-zert, de-zert," Jesse repeated from earlier.

"I give up," Winnie said. "De-zert it is, and then back to bed with both of you."

John said, "Yes, mama," as Jesse nodded his head. Winnie handed each of them a cookie and they both ran to their father.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, you come tuck us in." John grabbed one of his father's hands and Jesse grabbed the other and pulled. Will got up and went with them, back upstairs to their bedrooms.

"I'll be back," Will called back over his shoulder.

"Winnie, what do you say?" Bart asked. "You gonna let him go?"

"Of course," Winnie gave in. "You give me your solemn word you'll keep him safe."

Bret crossed his heart with his fingers. "Yes ma'am, we promise."

Bart started to say something, but instead he got up and hurried out the front door.

"Is he alright?" Sally asked.

"I'm sure. Excuse me for a moment," and Bret followed his brother outside. Bart stood on the porch, leaning on the rail, his head down. "Bart?"

Bart didn't say anything, just looked up at his brother. There were tears in his eyes.

"What is it?"

'A dream," Bart choked out. "Caroline. And twins. But ours were a boy and a girl. Bret and Belle. And another baby on the way. We were so happy." He stood up and walked away, out across the porch and down the steps. Bret waited and watched his brother's back as he walked into the moonlight. Bart hadn't told him about the dream. Funny the things they still kept from each other.

He stood there for a few minutes before Bart finally turned around and came back. His eyes were clear. "Sorry. I need to go explain."

Bret shook his head. "No. You don't. Just come back inside."

"Alright." Bart climbed the steps and stood, tall and straight. With Bret's arm draped over his shoulders, they walked back inside.


	8. Something Appropriately Nasty

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 8 – Something Appropriately Nasty

The barn was full and the house was dark. ' _Uh-oh,_ ' thought Bart. _'Somethin's wrong.'_

They were just getting home from dinner at the Walkers and it was far too early for Pappy to be back from poker. But home he was, as the brothers discovered when they went to the barn with their horses.

"Do you suppose he caught what Beau and Ben have?" Bart wondered.

"I guess. Why else would he be here at this time of night?"

"Maybe he brought a. . . . . um . . . . girlfriend home."

"Naw, I don't think he'd do that."

"What are we gonna do if he did catch it?" Bart was genuinely concerned. With the cattle drive about to start neither of them could afford to get sick. Especially with something as ugly as what was invading the Maverick household.

"Go somewhere else for a few days."

Always trying to be practical, Bart asked, "Where?"

"Back to Pappy's house."

"Can't. The Roycefields are there."

"Back to the Walker's?"

"With all those people?"

Bret sighed. "Althea Taylor's?"

"The bunkhouse, you mean?"

"Of course."

"Alright. That I'll do. Let's go see if Pappy's sick or just tired."

They walked to the 'mansion' and got their answer before the front door was opened. Even from outside they could both hear Pappy coughing and hacking, just like Beau had a few days ago, and Ben was still doing.

"Well, looks like its Althea's bunkhouse. But we can't go there now, it's too late."

"So where do we go tonight?" Bart questioned.

"The barn or the hotel in town. I don't know, that's all I've got."

"I vote for the barn. I'm too tired to go to town."

Bret sighed. The barn it was. "I think the last time we did this we were about ten years old. No, wait – twelve."

"You were twelve. I was ten. And that's not the last time I slept in a barn."

"Tell me. I wanna hear this. We've gotta make up beds, we've got time."

"The first time I was down in Mexico. You know I was just lost when I got there. Drinkin' and cheatin' the locals at cards. I wasn't thinkin' straight. One night I got so drunk I was lucky to walk out of the cantina. I couldn't find a place to stay, so I slept in the livery with my horse. When I woke up the next mornin' – that's when I quite drinkin'."

Bret straightened up and stared at Bart. "That's the first time you've ever told me anything about Mexico."

Bart kept his back turned to his brother. "It's not somethin' I'm proud of. I'm just glad I got smart sooner rather than later. I'd have cheated the wrong man at cards and gotten myself shot. And Pappy would have been VERY unhappy with me."

"At least he would have understood. You remember how he was for a while after momma died?"

"Barely. Was it bad?" Bart had been around five years old, and much of that time was nothing more than a vague memory.

"No, it was worse. Uncle Ben had to – well, let's just say Uncle Ben spent a week at our house while Lily Mae kept you and Beau at Ben's."

"And you were - ?"

"At home with Pappy and Uncle Ben. I saw Pappy just turned inside out with grief. Must be how you felt when Caroline died."

Bart's answer was so quiet that Bret almost didn't hear him. "Yeah. That's exactly how I felt."

"You know I'd be willing to listen if you ever wanted to talk about it." This conversation was the closest they'd ever come to discussing anything about the shooting or the aftermath. "Or not," Bret added as an afterthought.

Bret felt a hand on his arm and turned around to face his brother. "Bret – thanks. I appreciate that you've never tried to drag it out of me. Someday - "

"I know, Brother Bart. Someday you'll be ready to talk. I'm here when you do." Bret yawned. "I'm tired, too. Let's hit the hay."

"Ooooooh, that was so bad!"

Bret grinned sheepishly. "I know. I'm goin' to sleep. G'night, Bart."

"G'night, Bret."

XXXXXXXX

Both were stiff in the morning, and rather than listening to Pappy cough all night Bret had listened to his brother on and off. The only consolation was Bart's lack of contagion. There was no denying it, however Bart's lung had been injured in Mexico, it still wasn't healed.

They went in to pack, not only to go to Althea's house for the remainder of their time in Little Bend, but for the cattle drive too. It only took Bart a few minutes; it was obvious he was going to have to buy a new coat and gloves before leaving town. Bret required more time, so Bart took his 'bag' downstairs to talk to Lily Mae.

"How are you feelin'?" he asked her when he noticed she was drinking tea rather than coffee.

"I'm alright, just bein' cautious," she pointed out. "You and Bret goin' to stay elsewhere until Saturday?"

"Yeah, Althea Taylor's bunkhouse. Don't wanna catch the Maverick sickness before we leave."

"You better not be catchin' anything with the lungs you got, Mr. B."

"Nothin' wrong with my lungs, Lily," Bart replied.

Lily Mae stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah? Is that why I hear you at night? Did you think your brother was the only one that heard you?"

Bart moved to the coffee pot to pour a cup. "You make it sound awful, Lily Mae, and it's not."

The housekeeper took him by the shoulders and turned him around to face her. "It is awful, Bart, and you need to see a doctor."

"I agree with you, Lily Mae. Now how do we get him there?" Bret appeared out of nowhere.

"Hog tying might work. Or calf roping. You remember how to do either one, Bret?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do believe my long-buried skills are about to get tested. Maybe I should try them out on my brother first."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Are you packed?"

"Yep. All ready to go. I talked to Beau. He's actually starting to feel better. So there is life after whatever this is. Uncle Ben and Pappy are both still asleep. We can see 'em Saturday mornin'. Let's go see if Althea's got room for us in the bunkhouse."

"And if she doesn't?" Lily Mae asked pointedly.

Bret shrugged his shoulders. "She will."

Bart drained his coffee cup and kissed Lily Mae on the cheek. "We'll see you Saturday morning, Lily Mae." As if to emphasize what she and Bret were discussing, Bart coughed once or twice. "Don't look at me like that," he told Lily.

"Stubborn," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for both brothers to hear her.

Bret smiled. "Welcome to my life," he stated.

XXXXXXXX

There was a plethora of activity happening at the Taylor ranch. The blacksmith in town made a special trip to be sure the extra ponies were properly shod, and the hands for the cattle drive were beginning to arrive and move into the bunkhouse. Althea herself was in the chuck wagon, checking to make sure she had the right supplies and plenty of room for the bedrolls and clothes. The Mavericks stopped to see if there was anything they could do to assist and check about room in the bunkhouse.

"You don't look like you're having any fun at all, Althea," Bret remarked.

She shook her head. "I'm not. I don't think this wagon is big enough."

"Nothing that says we can't take two wagons. Just have to get somebody to drive the second one."

Bart had an idea. "Why don't we just alternate driving the second wagon? That way everybody gets a turn."

"Works for me. Know anybody with a second wagon we can buy?" Althea asked.

"The Walkers?" Bart suggested.

"Probably. If they won't sell it they'll probably lend it," Bret offered.

Bart pulled Noble up and turned back the way they'd just come. "I'm goin' over to see if we can buy it. You behave while I'm gone, big brother. And here, take this." Bart tossed his bag at his brother and he and Noble headed out.

"What's that for?" Althea asked as Bart disappeared.

"Beau, Uncle Ben and Pappy have all come down with something appropriately nasty and we were wondering if we could put up in the bunkhouse until we leave. Not a good idea to start out with your trail bosses sick."

"No," Althea replied. "That won't work at all. There won't be any room. But there's plenty of space at the house. The two of you are welcome there."

"Is that such a good idea?" Bret asked. "You know how people can gossip."

"What are they going to gossip about? Everybody knows we're takin' a herd to Abilene. What am I supposed to do, stack you all in the bunkhouse like firewood? Let's take your things up to the house."

Inside the house she pointed out the bedrooms upstairs. "The last one is mine. There's two other's up there – you can take whichever one you want and the other is Bart's. Do you think he can get the wagon from the Walkers?"

"I'm sure he will. That was a good idea, a second wagon. It'll make everything a lot easier."

"Is everything alright, Bret? Something seems to be troubling you."

Bret shook his head. "No, Althea, just me worryin' about all the little things. Nothin' unusual."

"You sure? I'm a good listener."

"I'll remember that, just in case. And thanks for lettin' us stay here. I just wanna keep everybody healthy."

Althea smiled at that. "Especially your brother?"

"Especially him."


	9. Southern Comfort

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 9 – Southern Comfort

Buying the wagon from the Walkers was no problem. George was more than ready to lend it to Althea, but Bart convinced him it to sell it. If anything went wrong the widow wouldn't have to worry about the shape it would be in when returned.

Bart told Will about Pappy and Ben's illness and that he and Bret were now staying at Althea's, just in case they were needed for anything. Then he tied Noble to the back of the wagon and drove it towards the Taylor ranch.

He wondered if he'd done the right thing by revealing what he had to Bret last night. There was only one other time the lost six months in Mexico had come up, and that was the first time he'd seen his brother after returning to the states. Bret didn't push him then, and Bart had been grateful for it. Last night he'd told the story about drinking and sleeping in the barn without a moment's hesitation – a testament to how far he'd come since that six-month period. Yet he wondered if he'd ever tell Bret the whole story. Maybe someday, but not in the foreseeable future.

He was halfway back to Althea's when a rider came up alongside him. Thin, with sandy blonde hair, the rider couldn't have been more than seventeen. He had a grin a mile wide. "Mr. Maverick?"

"One of 'em," came the reply from Bart.

"Mr. Bret or Mr. Bart?"

"Bart. Which one of us you after?"

"Either one'll do fine. I'm Ned Southern. Teddy Roycefield told me to come see you about a job as a wrangler?"

"Yep. They give you the particulars, Ned?"

"Yes, sir, they did. I'd be right happy to take the job if'n you'll have me."

Bart chuckled a little. "I tell you what, Ned. My horse is tied up in back. Leave yours back there and ride Noble up here and the job is yours."

"Yes, sir!" Ned disappeared around the back of the wagon.

' _It might be mean,'_ Bart thought, _'but if he's gonna wrangle the spare ponies he better be able to handle the old man.'_

Bart heard noises coming from the behind him, and Noble whinnied. Then snorted. Then all was quiet for about a minute, and Bart heard a horse coming. Had Ned given up without a fight?

Noble walked up next to the driver's seat of the wagon and cast a look at Bart that said "Who is this?" Ned had him under a tight rein, but Noble was as gentle as a kitten. The horse that wouldn't let anybody but his owner even put a saddle on him. Bart didn't hesitate. "Ned, you're hired. You know where the Taylor place is? Get your gear and come on over there. We're leavin' Saturday mornin' with the herd."

"Thanks, Mr. Maverick! Bart, I mean."

"Anybody that can make that horse behave deserves a job," Bart told him.

"I got everythin' I own with me now. Is it okay if I come with you?"

"Sure, Ned. But I think you better swap horses again before we take off. The old man looks like he's about ready to explode."

Ned laughed. "The old man, huh? I'll have to remember that. What's his proper name?"

"Noble. And he is, indeed. Fastest thing on four legs I've ever ridden."

"Yeah, he's sure got a lotta spirit," the boy answered, not having any trouble controlling the horse.

"Looks like he's met his match."

"I'll be right back, Bart." Noble wheeled around and headed for the back end of the wagon. When Ned returned on foot, Noble let loose with a wretched whinny that made Bart laugh.

"Come on, Ned. He's just tryin' to pretend he's still the boss. You're the first person he's let anywhere near him beside me."

Ned climbed up on the wagon and took the seat next to his new boss. "Yeah, I'd call him pretty much a one man horse."

"He was . . . . . a gift," finished Bart, remembering the circumstances of Noble becoming his property.

"Pretty special gift," Ned remarked.

Bart thought back to Gage and Amy Stanhope. "Yeah, he was."

XXXXXXXX

Bart knew just about everything he could know about Ned when they got back to the ranch, and Ned had acquired a good working knowledge of the Maverick brothers and how they came to be trail bosses for Althea Taylor's cattle drive. Bart drove up next to chuck wagon number one and got down, Ned following like an eager puppy.

His brother and the widow were inside the wagon, rearranging supplies. Bart stood and watched for a minute, then cleared his throat. Bret and Althea both looked up. "That's the hardest he's worked in years, Althea," Bart called.

"You got a shadow back there, Brother Bart. Is this our new wrangler?"

"You betcha," answered his brother. "Ned Southern, this is my OLDER brother, Bret Maverick. And Mrs. Althea Taylor, Fred Taylor's widow. Folks, this is Ned Southern. He actually rode Noble."

As if to deny it all, Noble whinnied, and all four of them laughed. Ned tipped his hat to Althea and got up into the chuck wagon and shook hands with Bret. "Pleasure to meet you both. Mr. Bret, Mrs. Taylor. Can I give ya a hand with anythin'?"

"You actually rode that prickly animal?" Bret asked. "I'm suitably impressed. And call me Bret. Grab that sack of beans outside and haul it in here, would ya Ned?"

"Yes, sir." He went back outside to grab the gigantic sack of beans and Bret looked at his brother.

"What is he, all of twelve?"

"Don't know, don't care. And I didn't ask. You should have seen Noble, he was as placid as a lap dog. That was good enough for me."

"I acquiesce to your judgment," Bret answered.

"Watch out, Althea, he's usin' those big words again," Bart laughed.

Ned appeared with the beans and Bart untied Noble from the second wagon. "C'mon, bud, this is home for a few days. Let's go see what we can find." They headed for the barn, Noble's head bobbing up and down as if to say, "Yes, boss."

Althea turned to Bret to make a point. "You've got two fewer things to worry about now. A second wagon and a head wrangler."

"Yeah, I trust Bart's judgment on that. If he says Ned is our man, then he is. Speaking of which," Bret continued, turning toward Ned, "Mr. Southern, I think you better stow your gear in the bunkhouse before all the beds are gone. Then check with Bart and see if he's got somethin' for you to do."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bret." Ned jumped down from the chuck wagon and took his bedroll off his saddle.

"That's irritating as all get-out," Bret stated.

"What is?"

"Him 'yes, sirring' me. Makes me feel as old as Pappy."

"Aren't you?" Althea laughed.

"No, I'm not. And just how old are you, Mrs. Taylor?"

"Why Mr. Maverick, I'm surprised at you. Don't you know a gentleman never asks a lady her age?"

"See, that's where you went wrong. You've assumed I'm a gentleman."

She looked up at him with big, round bluish-gray eyes, and he was besotted. "No, Bret, I'm not wrong. You are a true gentleman. Your momma would be real proud of you and your brother."

"I don't know, Althea. She didn't want her boys to be gamblers like their father. I guess she didn't have much choice. We were pretty set on doin' just what Pappy did." He sighed. "Sometimes I think she was right. If we'd just – " He made the mistake of looking down at Althea, and she was watching him with rapt attention. He looked into those eyes again, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss her, he heard Bart's voice approaching the wagon.

"What time's the stage, Althea?"

Bret pulled back abruptly, infuriated with himself for violating his own resolve to stay away from the widow while still in Little Bend.

Althea found her voice and answered Bart. "Two o'clock this afternoon, Bart. Would you go into town with us to help with the last minute supplies?"

Bret watched her carefully. From the look of her face and the tone of her voice, Althea had felt it, too. Thank God for Bart's timing.

"Sure, I need to go anyway. Gotta get a heavier coat. I put Ned to work checkin' over the horses. If you need him for somethin' else, let me know. Brother Bret, anything you want done?"

Bret stuck his head out of the chuck wagon. "Yeah, Bart, can you get the second wagon set up for bedrolls and blankets?"

"You got it."

He turned back to Althea. "I've got . . . . uh . . . . things to do. I'll be back around one o'clock." He climbed down off the wagon and went for his horse, mounting and riding away from the ranch before she could stop him. He needed to get out of there and have a long talk with himself. What the hell was wrong with him, behaving like his brother when it came to a woman? And not just any woman, his friend's widow?

He rode out past the creek, down to the river where Bart had gotten stuck when they were kids, and stopped. What was he doing? The last woman in his life was Marybeth Canton, actually a criminal named Connie Everly, posing as another innocent. He'd spent too much time searching for his brother to have any kind of serious relationship, or even a casual one, with a woman. And all of a sudden Althea Taylor was there in front of him, and he was acting like he was sixteen again. Why her? She should have been off-limits to him, and he knew it. In the space of three short months, the woman had lost a baby and a husband.

He dismounted and sat under the tree the three boys had played beneath as children. He'd spent a year combing every square inch of Arizona looking for his brother, and then another month tracking that same brother down in Mexico, and he was tired. And now he'd committed himself to a cattle drive that he really didn't want to go on, and why? Because he felt some sort of duty or obligation to a childhood friend? No, that wasn't the reason at all, although it was the only one he'd admit to. He was going because of a woman. A woman he had no right to even look at, much less woo. There, that was the ugly truth. And she thought he was a gentleman.

He was . . . . he was drawn to Althea Taylor like a bee to honey. And as he sat on the riverbank, under the tree that he'd spent so much time in and around when he was growing up, he knew it had to stop. For both their sakes.


	10. Unexpected Conversations

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 10 – Unexpected Conversations

When the stage pulled into Little Bend and came to a stop at the hotel, two people got off. The first was a smallish man of about thirty-five, hair turning gray, dressed in a banker's suit and looking thoroughly confused as to where he was. The second passenger was a rather intimidating looking woman of forty, almost as tall as Bart, and as solid as a lumberjack. Althea was perplexed; 'Cookie' Dolan, the man she'd hired to serve as the cattle drives cook, was supposed to be on the stage. Althea stood there with Bart and Bret for about five minutes until the woman approached her.

"Mrs. Taylor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Cookie Dolan," and she grabbed Althea's hand and shook it.

"Oh my," was all Althea could get out.

A big smile broke out on Cookie's face. "I know, not what you expected, am I?" She shook first Bart's hand, then Bret's. "You're the trail bosses, I assume? Must be related, from the look of ya. Well, close your mouths, boys, you just got the best dang cook this side of the Mississippi. You all got names?"

Althea finally spoke up. "Yes, Miss Dolan, these are my trail bosses. The brothers Maverick, Bart and Bret. And you're right, you're not what I expected. But I'm happy to have you here, nonetheless. You come highly recommended."

The unanticipated cook nodded. "Yep, got my reputation the hard way, earned it out on the trail. Call me Cookie. I ain't no fragile flower needin' to be called Miss Dolan. I've got two suitcases up there, Bret, was it? Can ya get those down?"

"Yes, ma'am. I can do that." As Bret was getting Cookie's luggage from the stage, Bart offered her his arm.

"Cookie, I'm the other half. Bart Maverick. Welcome to Little Bend, Texas. We came with Mrs. Taylor to see if there was anything you might want to pick up at the general store before we went out to the ranch. Store's right across the street."

"Well thank you, Bart Maverick. I'm always happy to walk with a good lookin' gentleman. And there's probably a few things we could add to the supplies. Let's go, handsome."

Bret deposited Cookie's suitcases in the buggy and extended his arm to Althea, then followed Cookie and Bart across the street. "You thought Cookie Dolan was a man?" he asked Althea, although the answer to the question was obvious.

"She came so highly recommended, I just naturally assumed . . . . . . "

"Well, it's gonna be interestin', that's for sure. Bet she can handle just about anythin' that gets thrown at her. And God help the first man that complains about the food."

"She is rather imposing, isn't she?" Althea asked.

"I think that's a good word for her. Imposing. Yes, ma'am, this is gonna be one interesting venture, that's for sure," Bret chuckled.

XXXXXXXX

It was still pitch black on Saturday morning when the Maverick brothers came back to Bentley's house. A light was on in the kitchen, normal for this time of the morning, and they dismounted and tied their horses before wandering into Lily Mae's domain. As usual, she was up, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee. Beau was with her and they were talking. Both looked up and smiled as the brothers walked in.

"I was hoping you were gonna stop in before you left."

Bart grabbed cups and the coffee pot, then poured for him and Bret. "How are you?" He asked Beau and he went on to refill his and Lily Mae's cups.

"A whole lot better than I was. Just sorry that I passed it around to everyone. How'd you two miss it?"

"Lucky," Bret answered.

"We ran like the cowards we are," Bart added.

"How's Ben and Pappy doin'?"

"They're better, too. My father's almost done with it; yours isn't quite that far yet. I heard I missed dinner at the Walkers."

"Yep, you did. Winnie's babies are sure somethin', aren't they Bart?"

"They're characters, Beau. John and Jesse. You know her husband's goin' with us?"

"I told him," Lily Mae offered.

"I can go," Beau insisted.

"NO," Bret said firmly, then explained. "You're just gettin' over this whatever-it-is, and you've never done a drive before. This one's too big to learn on, Beau. And if anythin' happened to you I'd never forgive myself."

"Bret's right, Cousin. This isn't a drive for beginners." Bart shook his head to emphasize his point.

"Alright. But if there's ever another, I'm goin' with you."

"Agreed," Bret promised.

"I'm goin' up to say goodbye to Pappy," Bart announced.

Moments later he was at his father's door, where he knocked and called "Pappy, it's Bart. Are you awake?"

A very hoarse voice answered back, "Come in, Bartley."

The room was dark, but the curtains were open wide so a thin sliver of moonlight danced across the floor. Bart knew just where the bed was, and he pulled a chair up next to it. "Don't get too close, " Pappy advised. "I don't want you to catch it."

Bart reached out and grabbed his father's hand. "Too late, Pappy, I'm already here."

"Not wise (cough cough) son. You should (cough) be healthy for this (cough) trip."

"I'll be fine, Pappy. I wasn't leavin' without talkin' to you."

"What's so important (cough) that it couldn't (cough) wait?"

"I love you."

Dead silence for a minute, and then, "Are you dyin'?"

"No. Why would you ask that?"

"Because you haven't (cough) told me that since (cough) you were six years old."

"That's the whole point, Pappy, I should have told you that a long time ago."

More silence. Finally, "I love you too, son."

"I always wanted you to be proud of me."

"I am proud of you, Bartley. (cough cough) I always have been."

"As proud as you are of Bret?"

The answer was crafted thoughtfully. "You're different people."

Bart sighed. "That's what I suspected."

Beauregard pulled his hand away from his youngest son. "That's not (cough) what I meant, and you know it."

"It's alright. Bret's your firstborn. I was just an afterthought."

(Cough cough) "You were never an afterthought. Your mother (cough) risked her life to (cough) have you. We were so happy (cough) when you were born."

"You never told me that before, Pappy."

"There's a lot of things I never told you before." Beauregard got through a whole sentence without coughing, but he paid the price. Several minutes passed before he could speak again.

"When you come back . . . . . . and I can talk (cough). It's time I sat down and explained a few (cough) things to you." A long pause ensued; Bart had to wait for Pappy to finish his thought. "I love you, Bart. Every bit as (cough) much as your brother. You've no idea how thankful I've always been (cough cough) for the two of you. Remember that, would you?"

"Yes, sir. Get well, Pappy."

"Stay well, son."


	11. Hope and Despair

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 11 – Hope and Despair

Bart had the unenviable task of assigning jobs for the drive, and it was almost eight o'clock on Saturday morning before he'd picked out his point riders, along with left and right swing and left and right flank riders. Those unassigned rode drag, and he deliberately left Will Neary to learn from Ned Southern as a wrangler before moving him up to any other position. He and Bret would fill in wherever needed.

Finally the actual drive was able to get underway, and it didn't take long for everybody to fall into comfortable positions. Bart drove the second wagon to start off, so that Noble would be fresh for the first night as a Nighthawk. That meant it would be at least thirty-six hours before he had the opportunity to sleep, but that was the price you paid for being the trail boss.

Bret circulated in and around the herd, keeping a watchful eye on all the drovers, especially the ones he didn't know. It would take several days of observing everyone to determine what position they were best suited for, and that was a decision that would be made jointly by the trail bosses.

The first day went relatively smoothly, with just one steer deciding he didn't want to go in the direction he was supposed to, and his mind was quickly changed by one of the Roycefields. They were headed up the 'feeder' trails until they reached the more well-traveled Chisolm Trail. Once the cattle were bedded down for the night everyone that had been skeptical of Cookie's skills was pleasantly surprised when she served the best venison stew they'd ever tasted, with fresh biscuits. Bart grabbed dinner and saddled Noble, taking three other drovers with him to ride as Nighthawks.

It was a long first day, if not a grueling one, and Althea was more than happy to sit down and discuss everything with one of her trail bosses. "How do you think it went?" was of course her first question.

"Not bad for a first day with a new crew," Bret answered. "I'm gonna wanna make some adjustments with the positionin' of the drovers once I talk to Bart, and we need to move a little faster. I think it'll go better tomorrow, with Bart out with the herd rather than in the wagon. All in all, it wasn't the worst first day I've ever had. How was it ridin' all day for you?"

Althea laughed. "It was tough, I'll admit. It's been a long time since I rode that many hours with no break. I may sit in the chuck wagon tomorrow with Cookie and see how that goes. The only thing that bothers me is I heard her singing at the top of her lungs all day, and I'm not sure I can handle a full day of that. There are worse things though, I guess. I'll sleep tonight, that's for sure. How's Bart going to do with no sleep tonight?"

"He'll be all right. You forget the hours gamblers keep. Both of us have been up for a lot longer at a stretch."

"It just seems like an awful long time."

"It is. But you either get used to it or you don't play poker."

"No wonder I'm not a poker player," she laughed again. "I need my sleep."

Cookie wandered by, with a bemused expression on her face. She stopped for just a minute and said to no one in particular, "I didn't hear any complaints about dinner."

Bret spoke up. "The food was delicious Cookie. Thank you."

"I completely agree, Cookie. Keep up the good work," Althea added.

Cookie smiled and continued on her way, headed to bed. Morning came early not only for the cattle and the drovers; it came even earlier for the cook. Althea watched her slightly odd cook walk around the back of the second wagon and emerge with her own bedroll. Cookie made her bed close to the back end of the chuck wagon and retired for the night. Althea watched her with amusement and then turned to Bret, who was still drinking coffee. "Is it just me, or is she very . . . . different?"

Bret shook his head. "I haven't met a cook yet who wasn't different. You know how hard they work. I wouldn't do that job for any amount of money, much less what you're paying her."

Althea snickered. "You wouldn't do any job for that amount of money."

"You wound me, Mrs. Taylor."

"Did I misspeak, Mr. Maverick? Is there a job you would do for that amount of money?"

"Well, no. But that's irrelevant. I took this job, didn't I?"

Althea wore a puzzled expression. "Why did you? I've wondered, ever since you and Bart said 'yes' to my proposition."

The question was met with silence and Althea thought that was all she was going to get, but Bret finally gave her an answer. "Fred was a bully, a real hell raising boy. One day at school he picked on a little girl that Bart was sweet on and he and Fred got into it. Bart hates bullies; so do I. Anyway, Bart beat the stuffin' out of Fred, then took the blame for the whole thing. They became good friends, and soon Fred was joinin' the three Mavericks in everythin' we did. When we left Little Bend Fred was gonna go with us, but that's when his momma got sick and he wouldn't leave her. So Fred stayed. I saw him once, when I came to visit Pappy and Uncle Ben, but years had passed, and neither of us was the same.

"When we first came back to town you two had just gotten married and we were gonna come visit. Then Bart took the job for Maude Donovan, and we didn't see Fred or meet you. When we finally got Bart out of Mexico and back to Texas, you were already a widow. After Pappy told us about the cattle drive and what happened, Brother Bart and I talked about it. We decided to do what needed to be done. So when you came to see us . . . . . "

"You'd already made the decision?"

Bret nodded. "Yes, ma'am, we had. Are you disappointed?"

"Disappointed?"

"That you didn't talk us into it?"

"No, not at all. I'm grateful that you two would do this, after so many years had passed."

"We kinda figure we owed it to Fred. Maybe things would be different if we'd come to see you when we first got back to town."

"I don't think they would be, Bret. Fred and Sam were determined to put this drive together, one way or the other. I was against it and tried to talk them out of it, or at least delay it until . . . . . well, just delay it. They wouldn't. Then there was no reason to delay it. The next thing I knew, I'd lost them both."

"And that's when you decided to finish it."

"I had to. They'd signed a contract. If I backed out of it I'd lose the herd. There's too much at stake here. Besides, how else would I have met you and Bart?"

A chuckle emanated from the gambler. "There's lots of folks that'd tell ya that wouldn't have been a bad thing. Not meetin' us, I mean."

"They'd be wrong."

"Let's see if you still feel that way when we get to Abilene."

"I will. But I'm going to need sleep to get there. So I'm going to turn in now. Good night, Mr. Trail Boss."

"Good night, Mrs. Cattle Owner."

Althea snuggled down into her bedroll and blanket, while Bret got up and poured more coffee. He could see Noble circling the right side of the herd, walking slowly along the outer reaches while Bart checked to make sure everything was quiet and peaceful. Many a drive they'd run together like this, but never one this big. They were going to have to be on alert every minute of every day in order to make this work the way it was supposed to. There was no time to worry about anything but the cattle.

As Bart rode the perimeter the same thoughts were playing out in his mind. If they were going to get through this in one piece and get these cattle to market they were going to have to pay attention every minute. One small slip-up could cause a colossal stampede, resulting in a potentially massive loss of life. Nobody could afford to have that happen, and Bart hoped that Bret would keep that at the forefront of his mind, rather than focusing on Althea. What was it that Pappy always said? "Live in hope, die in despair."


	12. Dust in the Wind

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 12 – Dust in the Wind

Sunrise came and brought with it not only some unexpected wind, but unwelcome coughing. Bart had worried about the strain on his bad lung but knew there wasn't much he could do about it, and a full day of driving the second wagon behind a dust storm known as a cattle drive had aggravated it beyond measure. By the time he'd added a long night of riding the perimeter constantly watching for everything coming and going amongst the steers he was having more trouble breathing than he wanted to admit. He was in the midst of another coughing spasm when he saw Bret headed his way, and he did his best to hide the discomfort he was in.

"You been doin' that long?" were the first words out of Bret's mouth.

"Five or six years," was his brother's flippant reply, meant to distract Bret from the coughing that just wouldn't stop.

"Not funny. Go get some breakfast – Cookie's get everything ready."

"Thanks. Won't be long."

Bret shook his head. "Take your time. I got it."

The Nighthawks were slowly being replaced by drovers as they finished breakfast and took up their daytime positions. Bret would get the drive going in just a few minutes, and he wanted to be sure that Bart ate breakfast before returning. He listened to his brother's coughing continue as he rode back to camp and was not pleased with what he heard.

No doubt the bad lung was aggravated yesterday by the trail dust kicked up from driving a wagon slowly behind almost ten thousand head of cattle. No more of that, Bret making a mental note that they'd find other drovers who could handle the chore. Best to keep Bart out front, near the beginning of the herd, where he'd breathe in less dirt.

' _Shoulda made him see Doc Petry before we left Little Bend,'_ Bret thought. _'Not that he woulda gone without a fight.'_ Why his brother had such an aversion to doctors, Bret had no idea. Maybe it was the sheer number of medical men Bart had faced over his short life. The only one he seemed to trust was Beckham Dooley, their sister Jody's intended. Who just happened to be almost two thousand miles away.

He saw Cookie climb up in the chuck wagon and Althea take the seat next to her. Obviously the boss had determined that a day of Cookie's singing was preferable to another day spent in the saddle. Much to Bret's displeasure he could see Bart already on his way back to his current position, with a cup of coffee still in his hand. Bobby Tilford was driving the second wagon today, happy to be doing anything that earned him a salary.

"Tell me that's not all you had," Bret practically begged as Noble got close.

"That's not all I had," Bart answered, too quickly to suit his brother.

"Are you bein' funny or honest?"

"What are you, my mother?" Bart returned, at this exact moment not willing to be 'nagged' by his brother.

Bret shook his head and swung his horse around. He rode away and called out to Joe Fisher, who was riding point at the moment, "Start 'em up, Joe!" and heard the cry keep resonating back down to the far end of the herd. Slowly the cattle started to move, and another day's journey began.

XXXXXXXX

Althea was eternally grateful that Cookie hadn't started singing this morning, seeming to prefer the herd noise to that of her own voice. They'd been rolling along for a while when she finally asked "So which one ya got yer eye on?"

"Excuse me?" Althea asked, startled.

"Which one ya got yer eye on?" Cookie asked again.

"What makes you think – "

Cookie burst forth with one of her laughs. "Listen, missy. You're young and fine-lookin'. And there's two good-lookin' men runnin' this drive. One's tall, dark and handsome, and if that doesn't appeal to ya the other one's taller, darker, and I would same handsomer but I'd be hard pressed to choose 'tween the two of 'em. Unless yer dead I'd say one of 'em's in yer sights already. Now, which one ya got a hankerin' for?"

"Cookie, I was just widowed two months ago. I hardly think it's appropriate . . . . ."

"Life don't stop and wait for what's appropriate, Miz Taylor. The dead's gone and we're still here. You do have yer eye on one of 'em, don't ya?"

"I . . . . well, I . . . . . .um . . . . . yes."

"So which one, Handsome One or Handsome Two?"

"Uh, I . . . . which one is which?" Althea couldn't believe that Cookie had asked her the question, and that she was going to answer it.

"One's the older, two's the younger. Bret and Bart? Bret and Bart."

Very quietly, Althea murmured, "One."

"Yep. I thought so, I just wasn't sure. He'd be makin' some fine lookin' young'uns. That's fer sure."

"Cookie!"

"Well, wouldn't he?"

"From everything I've heard, neither one intends to marry and raise a family."

Cookie shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. "That'd be a real shame. Yes, ma'am, a real shame. Maybe you can change his mind."

"I've no intention of trying, Cookie. I just want to get through this drive and get to Abilene."

"Well, you mark my words. Bet you got him roped, hog-tied and branded by Abilene. Just got to put your mind to it. Don't be lettin' one that fine get away. Less'n ya change horses in mid-stream that is, and decide to go after t'other one. Everythin' I said about Handsome One goes for Handsome Two, ya know. I gotta feelin' makin' babies with him would be a real good time."

Althea blushed beet red with Cookie's suggestions. Not that the thought of a life with Bret Maverick hadn't crossed her mind. But Fred, her darling Fred, had only been dead for two months. It was much too soon to even think about moving on and getting married again. Or was it?


	13. A Stroll in the Moonlight

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 13 – A Stroll in the Moonlight

The days and nights settled into a routine. After a few days of driving the herd forward, Bret and Bart had their point riders and all of their drover positions pretty well set. They tried to rotate the drovers so that nobody got stuck riding drag more than two days in a row, and Bret was able to find enough drovers with experience to keep the wagon out of Bart's hands. That still didn't have a significant effect and the coughing continued, getting worse instead of better.

Cookie was a real character, and she provided most of the entertainment around the fire. She'd been doing this job for a while and was open and willing to talk about anything; she became a real friend to most of the drovers. She got particularly close to Ned and Will, and just kind of took them under her wing. She assumed a mother role to Ned, and Will used her as a sounding board for all of his hopes and dreams for the Walker Ranch. The drovers passed the evenings trying to find a naughty limerick that Cookie didn't know, and so far no one had been successful.

Poker was regularly played, with the understanding that if you wanted to bet it you had to put it on the table. No betting on next week's pay allowed. Bret and Bart stayed out of the poker games for the most part; it was difficult to beat a man at poker at night and tell him how to run a herd the next day. In desperation Bret taught Althea to play poker, and on occasion Cookie joined them in a game. She was a worthy opponent, and even though the trail bosses won most of the time, Cookie was more than capable of holding her own. Althea couldn't remember the hierarchy of the hands, but at least Bret got to spend time with her without running the risk of overstepping his bounds.

The two potential lovers found their own routine, taking walks when they didn't have a poker game going, and Bret discovered her to be quite knowledgeable and charming. He made sure their walks were always in full view of the drovers, using them as visual chaperones. He knew he shouldn't encourage her to spend time with him, but he enjoyed her company and found himself actually discussing things other than poker with her. The enormous problem he could foresee was the fact that he was falling in love with her.

This night he tried to ignore that turn of events and have a serious talk with Bart about his health. Bart wanted nothing to do with a discussion on that particular topic and preferred to take a walk alone down by the river they'd bedded down next to. Bret watched his brother drift further and further downstream, coughing almost every step of the way. Althea was standing next to him before he even heard her.

"He's not getting any better, is he?" she asked out of concern.

"Nope," Bret answered her and began to walk back to the fire.

"Bret, wait," Althea pleaded, and he stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me? Do I repulse you?"

There was hurt and anger in her voice. He wanted to gather her in his arms, hold her close and tell her how he felt about her, but he knew that was still a bad idea. Instead he just said, "No." She could draw her own conclusions.

"Then what is it?" she persisted. "You avoid me most of the time as if I'm somehow diseased. Have I said or done something to offend you?"

"No," he answered again and walked to the back of the second wagon, pulling his bedroll out of the pile.

She followed him. "Why don't you want to be with me unless we're around everybody else in camp? Please give me an answer. I can't stand any more of this."

He could ignore her next to him no longer and set the bedroll back in the wagon in the spot he'd pulled it from. Without a word he turned back to her and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in such a passionate kiss that it took her breath away. He let go of her as quickly as he'd held her and resumed possession of the bedroll, then walked away and left her standing alone. She wasn't sure that she'd ever been kissed so completely in her whole life.

She finally reached into the wagon and extracted her own bedroll, taking it back to the fire and Cookie, who was snoring placidly. She made her bed and laid down, nothing running through her mind but the kiss. What did she do now? For lack of anything better, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

Bart walked on down the riverbank, stopping now and again to look out across the water. There was still an occasional steer drinking from the river, and Bart watched the massive beasts wander in and out of the liquid. He coughed again, and it was beginning to wear on him. Bret had wanted to talk to him tonight, or lecture him as the case may be, and he'd been in no mood for it. He knew the cough was never going to get better until the cattle drive was over and he could stop breathing the dust and dirt of forty thousand hooves on a daily basis.

What he couldn't understand was why Bret seemed to pursue him so relentlessly. He knew as well as anybody what havoc a drive could impose upon even the best of lungs, and Bart's certainly wasn't the best. It was almost as if he was focusing all his attention on Bart so that he didn't have to face any other problems. Then it came to him. Bret was trying to avoid dealing with something. Everything seemed to be going well with the cattle and the drovers; the food was excellent; they were making good time, and that left only one thing. Althea.

Had his brother fallen for the lovely widow? The most likely answer seemed to be 'yes,' and he was using Bart's coughing as a focus, to draw his attention away from the real problem.

Bart was delighted and dismayed at the same time. Bret knew the risk he was taking, but it had been much too long since there was a woman in his brother's life. Althea had been someone's wife; Bart had no doubt she'd want to marry again. And Bart assumed that wasn't feasible at this point in his brother's life. Which left the question unanswered: Where was this going to end up?

When Bart finally looked up, he realized how far down the river he'd walked. At least Bret wouldn't follow him here, but maybe it would be better if he had. It was time they had a long talk about the Widow Taylor and the potential for disaster that rode with the drive. What had started out as a favor for a dead friend had turned into a money-making opportunity with a black cloud hanging over it.

Better get back to camp and get some sleep. Without paying too much attention, he turned around and began walking the way he'd come. Something caught his eye and he took a closer look, to be sure he'd actually seen it and not just imagined it. A lone figure wove in and out of the brush that surrounded the campsite. The only reason he could be seen was the full moon that shown brightly in the night sky. It appeared to be a Comanche brave, but not a warrior. This was a boy of ten or eleven, and he carried a bow and wore a quiver across his back. A dead rabbit hung from his waist; he was out hunting and appeared to have accidentally stumbled across the camp.

Bart stood still and within two or three seconds the young Comanche had disappeared completely. He'd been holding his breath and didn't realize it until he exhaled. Things had been progressing smoothly and he wanted nothing to disturb that. He looked out to the herd and the only Nighthawk he saw riding was Terry Ransworth, who was moving slowly up the south side of the group and watching almost straight ahead.

Good. The last thing they needed was someone panicking at the sight of a lone Indian and inadvertently starting a stampede. Especially here in northern Texas, where the terrain went from pleasant hills and valleys to long expanses of flat land, then back to rivers and rocky stretches where many a herd could be lost in a matter of minutes. Bart continued watching the cattle and saw no sign of anything amiss, slowly but surely making his way back to camp. He was beyond tired and probably should have saved his energy for things more important than trying to escape another argument with Bret about his coughing.

He'd failed to retrieve his bedroll from the wagon and had to climb up inside to get to it now, and that proved more challenging than he'd imagined. The constant coughing and difficulty catching his breath was beginning to take a toll on his strength and stamina. Another thing to keep from his brother's attention. Maybe he should go back to riding Nighthawk again; that way he could avoid Bret most of the time by overseeing the nighttime responsibilities and sleeping in the second wagon during the day. That was something he would consider and decided to give it more thought in the morning.

Still wary after spotting the 'lost' Comanche, he made his bed close to the rope line and Noble. The horse bobbed his head up and down but remained silent. Bart finally laid down for the night, worn out mentally and physically and wondering if he had enough endurance left to finish what he and Bret had started.


	14. Heaven, Hell and Texas

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 14 – Heaven, Hell and Texas

Everything was going too smoothly to stay that way for long. All day it had been getting darker and darker, the rainclouds gathering overhead like black wool, and everyone was awake and with the herd. Even Althea was on horseback, waiting in nervous anticipation for the thunder and lightning that was bound to come eventually. Bart had tried to give her a thorough understanding of a stampede and its aftermath, hoping that she absorbed that knowledge better than she had poker hands.

He'd expected Bret to explain it all to her, but his brother begged off, using the excuse that he was needed out with the herd just then and simply couldn't be in two places at once. Bret was lying and Bart knew it; it didn't happen very often but Bret had never been good at pulling a poker face when he wasn't gambling, particularly with his brother. This, of course, caused Bart to wonder just exactly what had happened between Bret and Althea, since it was her he was obviously avoiding.

They all kept riding, watching and waiting for anything that would set the steers off. The potential storm dragged on all day, until just before time to bed the herd down for the night, and finally the rain started. For the first hour it stayed gentle and calm, and everyone hoped that they might escape something more wild and violent, but Mother Nature had more than a peaceful rain in store.

At last the thunder started, and when it began it sounded like pounding drums. Still they hoped for anything other than what everyone knew was coming, and when the first sharp crack of lightning rolled through it was followed almost immediately by a booming clap of thunder. Steers bellowed and snorted but remained relatively calm, until the next bolt lit up the sky and the thunder cracked right behind it. That was too close to be ignored, and the herd bolted.

"STAMPEDE!" somebody yelled at the top of their lungs, and suddenly it seemed like the entire valley was in full flight. Every drover, regardless of position, dug their heels into their mounts sides and shifted as fast as possible into a gallop. Men whooped and hollered, horses whinnied and cattle made any number of sounds. Cookie guided the horses pulling the chuck wagon off to the far side of the cattle and kept going, not with the same speed as the frightened steers but attempting to stay within range of the animals. Dixie Walker was driving the second wagon, and he followed Cookie perfectly. Will and Ned did the best they could to keep the remuda out of the stampede, but several of the horses broke from the pack and ran with the cattle.

Bart rode alongside the body of the group, trying to stay with them until the drovers out front could begin to turn the herd and slow them down. It was Noble's first stampede but he handled it like he'd been doing it his whole life. His ability to run with the herd without excessive guidance allowed his rider more freedom to try and assist the point riders.

Bret rode with the Roycefields and Harvey Fanta, and they'd started to turn the steers in front to the right when another crack of lightening roared through the sky and reignited the frenzy. Back where Bart was riding a steer veered to the left and Noble jumped to avoid a collision. Bart, who'd been paying more attention to the herd than his mount, slipped sideways in the saddle and had to make a last-minute grab of Noble's mane to remain astride his horse.

They ran for what seemed like hours. The only thing that let Bart breathe was the continuing rain that prevented the ground underneath from turning to dust. The drovers riding point got the herd turned into itself once the thunder and lightning trailed off, and the stampede slowly ground to a halt. Bret appeared out of nowhere, yelling over the sound of the rain "You alright?"

Bart nodded and Bret rode off, checking on each of the riders on down the line. Thankful that his brother was too busy to spend any time questioning him, Bart hid his inability to catch his breath until Bret had moved on. At least now he had time to recover without his brother watching his every move. He wheeled Noble back around and headed for the chuck wagons, to make sure that Cookie and Dixie were still in one piece.

They were back about a mile behind the herd, still driving at a moderate speed and attempting to catch up with everyone else. Neither appeared to have a problem but Cookie motioned him over, concern written on her face.

"You alright, boss man?" she yelled at him.

"Yeah, why?" he gasped out, getting his breathing under control a whole lot slower than he would have liked.

"Cause you're about as lily white as my flour barrel," she called back. "I could use some help here. Why don't you tie your horse in back and come ride with me till we get in and make camp?"

It was a thinly veiled attempt to get him some rest, but he was having so much difficulty with his lungs that he accepted her premise. He dismounted and tied Noble to the rear of the chuck wagon, then strained to pull himself up on the seat next to the cook. "You looked like you needed a rest," she told him as they started up again. "That lung givin' you trouble?"

Cookie had picked up on his breathing difficulty during one of their poker games and he'd finally told her the whole story of Doralice and the rescue from the Mexican Federales, including the bullet in the back and the damage it had done to his lung. She hadn't said anything to Bret, but she'd kept an eye out for him ever since and always had an excuse ready for something that required his help whenever he seemed to have a problem breathing. Like everyone else that she watched out for and protected, she kept his secret.

"Some," he finally answered her. "It just never gets batter."

"Yeah, you and I both know it's not gonna until you get outta this dirt and dust. Ya still ain't said nothin' to yer brother?"

"Nope. Not goin' to, either. He's got enough on his mind, from the look of things."

Cookie laughed through the rain, which had finally turned into a steady, soft shower. "Him and Miz Taylor. Somethin' happened last night, I just don't know what. She won't even look in his direction, an he's gone outta his way all day to avoid her. You talked to either one of 'em?"

"Been too busy today waitin' for what just happened. I haven't seen Bret since last night when I walked away from him. I been avoidin' him and he's been avoidin' me. It's a mutual avoidance relationship right now."

"See what ya can do about fixin' that, would ya? Yer gonna need each other fore'n this is all over."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Yeah, see what ya can do about fixin' your brother an Miz Taylor. The rest a this drive is hell on wheels if'n they don't make up."

"Are you sure there's anything to make up?"

Cookie laughed again. "Yep. Ain't you seen them makin' eyes at each other? They wouldn't admit it, but they're crazy 'bout each other. Now they're not talkin'. Somethin' happened."

The cook had no more than finished when Bret rode by. "Everything ok?" he asked Cookie.

"Yep boss, everythin's good. I had a problem but Bart fixed it. Ya can have 'im back if ya need 'im."

"Naw, it's good. Go on up and make camp. I got a bunch a hungry men ridin' out here right now. Bart, can ya get some supper an' then come out an' get me?"

"You got it, Brother Bret. Be there shortly."

Cookie drove the wagon up to a spot perfect for setting up camp and pulled over. Dixie put the second wagon right behind her. Bart jumped down and helped Cookie from her seat. "Thanks for the save, Cookie. It was just what I needed."

"Yer welcome. Just member what I said about yer brother."

Bart went to the back of the chuck wagon and untied Noble. He mounted and went to find Bret, intending to have a talk with him about whatever had taken place with Althea. Speaking of Althea, where was she? Bart hadn't seen her since the stampede began, and he grew concerned that she'd been caught up in the frenzy and gotten hurt. It took him almost thirty minutes to find her, and when he did she was helping bandage one of the Branford drover's legs that had been gouged by a steer.

"Is he gonna be able to ride?" Bart asked her.

"Yes, it's not that bad. Did you need me for something?"

Bart shook his head. "I hadn't seen you since the stampede started. Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"That's sweet. Thank you. Have you seen Bret?"

"Before I came to find you, yeah. I'm gonna relieve him once supper's done and I've eaten. You need him for somethin'?"

"No, nothing. I'm going to camp. I assume Cookie's camped by now. Want to ride with me?"

"Sure, Althea."

They rode in silence back to the camp Cookie and Dixie had set up. Supper was ready and Bart and Althea both got food and sat together away from the fire. There was no sign of Bret.

"Everything okay between you and my brother?"

"Fine," she answered in between bites. "Why do you ask?"

"Mmmmm. No."

"I don't understand."

"No, things aren't right between you and Bret. I have to work with him, and I can tell."

Althea set her plate on the ground. "You're right. They're not."

"Is there somethin' I can do to help?"

"Get him to talk to me."

Bart shook his head. "I can try. I can't guarantee anything. It's not like anybody in our family is stubborn."

"That's enough. If you can do that I'll be happy. And thanks, Bart. Guess I say that to you a lot, don't I?"

"Eat your supper before it gets cold."

"Yes, sir."

They sat together in silence and finished eating. Bart stood and wiped his plate off, tucked it back in his saddlebags, and grabbed Noble's reins. He was headed back out to find and relieve Bret when he heard Dixie holler from the back of the wagon. "Hey, Bart! Come help me move somethin', would ya?"

Instead of mounting he walked Noble around the back of the chuck wagon and saw Dixie struggling to move some bags. "Things got pretty well messed up back here. Can ya lend me a hand?" Dixie asked.

"Sure." He quickly wrapped Noble's reins around the wagon hitch and climbed up in the back. "Whadda ya need moved?"

"Grab that sack a beans and hand it here, would ya?" Dixie asked while he fought with a fifty pound sack of flour.

Bart bent to pick up the bag and he felt a sudden wave of nausea sweep over him. He straightened up, thinking that would fix the problem; instead it overwhelmed him. He heard Dixie say, "Bart?" and then nothing else.

XXXXXXXX

"I just asked him to help me move a few sacks back where Cookie needed 'em," Dixie told Althea, who was bent over the prone figure sprawled on the bags of beans, sugar and flour stacked in the back of Cookie's wagon. "Next thing I knew he collapsed."

"Probably just exhaustion," Althea told the drover. "It wasn't your fault, Dixie. Go on, get some sleep yourself. This can be finished later."

Once Dixie had made his way out of the wagon, Althea turned to Cookie. "It's more than exhaustion, isn't it?"

The cook was torn. Did she keep Bart's confidence or tell Althea what was really going on? Finally her concern for the man's health won out over her sense of conscience. "Yeah, it is. He's been havin' trouble fer quite some time, not breathin' right. That lung that got shot up when he went to Mexico. Been aggravated by that cough. He was lookin' real bad earlier, with that stampede and all. I been after 'im to tell his brother, but with you an Bret fightin', he didn't wanna do it."

Althea started to say "We're not fighting" but stopped herself. Instead she asked "How long has this been happening?"

The answer from Cookie was spoken quietly. "Since the drive started."

A very soft moan escaped the gambler's throat and Althea turned her attention back to the man lying in front of her. She wiped his face off with the damp rag Cookie brought her and waited for another sign that he might be able to hear her. It came in the form of an ever-present cough, followed by fluttering eyelids. Althea could see just a small slice of those dancing brown eyes, and finally heard a mumbled, "Hello, angel."

"Bart, it's Althea. Do you know where you are?"

The tiniest of smiles turned up the corners of his mouth, and he whispered a question. "Heaven?"

Cookie chuckled, and even Althea smiled. "No, sir, guess again."

His eyes opened just a bit wider. "Sure not hell." That caused Cookie to roar with laughter and elicited a grin from the man who'd collapsed. "Still Texas?"

"What happened, Bart?"

"Don't know, Althea. Was movin' somethin' for Dixie and then – nothin'."

"Having trouble with your lungs? Can't catch your breath? Always coughing?"

The smile turned into a frown. "Aw, Cookie, you told."

"Didja want me ta wait till ya quit breathin' altogether?" There was a small overtone of guilt in Cookie's question.

"Yes." He opened his eyes completely and looked up at his friend and confidant. "You promised."

"Wrong person to be mad at, Bart Maverick. Why haven't you taken better care of yourself?"

"KInda hard to do out here. Tell me you haven't sent for Pappy?"

Althea looked at him and blinked. It took her a minute to realize he was talking about Bret. "No, I haven't. But you know he'll find out about this."

"Better later than now. I'm sittin' up." He sat up slowly, with a hand from Althea. The nausea had been replaced by dizziness. He tried taking a deep breath and the dizziness got worse, followed by another bought of coughing. "Oh. That's not workin' well, is it?"

"Bart, you need rest. You have to let me tell Bret."

"Gonna send him a smoke signal?"

"What?"

"He's not talkin' to you, remember?"

"He is now," came another voice, and Bart knew he was in trouble.


	15. Steam Punk

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 15 – Steam Punk

"What happened?"

"Aw, you found my secret hidin' place."

"Not funny, Brother Bart. What happened, Althea?"

"I'll let him tell you. Please talk to me before you leave again." The pleading was gone from her voice, replaced by a firm resolve.

"I will." Bret climbed into the wagon as Althea made her way out of it. He sat down on the bags of food, next to his brother, and put his arm around Bart's shoulders. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

"Nothin's goin' on. What's goin' on with you?"

Bart tried to joke his way out of it, but Bret wasn't buying it. He tightened his grip on his brother and persisted. "Let me rephrase that. Tell me what's goin' on."

"The same thing that's been goin' on for weeks. Only worse."

"Which is?"

Bart shook his head. "That damn lung. Do you wanna say 'I told you so'? Go ahead, say it. 'I told you so'." In a moment of bad timing, Bart started coughing again.

"No, I don't wanna say 'I told you so.' I just want you to be well for five minutes. No ridin' tonight. Or tomorrow. I want you to be so well-rested that you're bored to tears. And we can try that steam thing that momma used to do when you were little. I'll have Cookie heat some water. Stay here and rest until it's ready. I'll come get ya. I wish you'd said somethin' sooner."

"You got ten thousand steer's to worry about."

"And only one brother."

"Who's a pain in the butt. Speakin' of pains in the butt, what's this business with you and Althea?"

Bret 's expression changed from worried to indignant. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Sure. Now who's ignorin' somethin' right under his nose?"

Bret cleared his throat. "Alright, there's a small problem. But it's between me and her."

"I can respect that. But talk to her about it, would ya?"

"I will if it'll make you tell me when there's somethin' botherin' you."

"Sure, just like I always do."

Bret laughed and let go of his brother's shoulders. "Okay, okay. Lay down. I'll be back for ya when the water's ready."

XXXXXXXX

"You know what I want, Cookie?"

"Yep, boss man. Glad to see somebody doin' somethin' for your brother."

"You knew, didn't ya? All those little things you needed him for?"

Cookie grinned sheepishly. "Not my secret to tell," she replied.

"Bret? How is he?" Althea was behind him.

"Sick. And tryin' to ignore it. Cookie's heatin' some water for steam. Our momma used to do that for him when he little and he couldn't breathe."

"Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Sure. Cookie, you let me know when it's ready, alright?"

"Yep, boss man. Will do."

The trail boss and the cattle owner walked away from the wagons and out toward the herd. "About last night – "

"I'm sorry, Althea. It won't happen again."

"Bret, I – "

"You don't have to say anything else. It was wrong and I know it. I hope you'll accept my apology."

"Bret – "

"I really am sorry."

"Bret, shut-up!"

That stopped his apologizing, at last. Althea quit walking and looked up at him. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"But I – "

"You kissed me. You didn't shoot me. You didn't rob me. You kissed me. That's all."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

"Yes, you only did it once. I wish you'd do it again."

Just as he realized what she'd said and bent down to fulfill her wish the sound of Cookie's voice permeated the night air. "Water's boilin', boss man."

"I'm comin', Cookie."

XXXXXXXX

Bret got Joe Sanders to take over Bart's ride as Nighthawk and Dixie agreed to drive the wagon one more day. That way Bart could get some rest after the steam treatment instead of being up for another twenty-four hours. Althea agreed to travel with Dixie the so she'd be available if Bart tried to do something foolish like get up and work the drive.

The night and the next day passed peacefully if slowly, and Bart actually did feel better with some forced rest. Much as he really wanted to be completely recovered he knew that wasn't going to happen until he was away from the dust and damaging air of the cattle drive and his lung had a chance to fully heal.

As the afternoon waned Althea moved to the back of the wagon to hear more stories of Fred raising hell with the Maverick clan. Bart had done as much sleeping as his body could stand and talking didn't seem to bother his breathing, as long as he wasn't trying to herd cattle at the same time.

Althea was giggling and Bart had to wait to finish the story. "So I had to promise Fred that I'd never tell anyone about the mule or the goat, but the porcupine was fair game."

Now she was laughing as hard as she could. Just the thought of Fred full of porcupine quills was too much for her, and she felt relief to laugh about her late husband and not cry.

It was good to make her giggle, much less laugh. She was such a pretty girl, and she deserved to be smiling and happy instead of buried in widow's weeds. Bart wandered - could his brother make her happy, or would falling in love with Bret Maverick just bring her more heartbreak? He knew the answer to that question if she was looking for another husband.

"Brother Bret told me you're gonna sell the ranch and move back to town with your father. Sure you wanna do that?"

Althea looked thoughtful but there was no equivocation in her answer, "Yes, I've given it a lot of thought. I just can't see staying out there by myself. What would I do with no one around?"

"Hire yourself a good foreman and let him run the place. There'd be plenty to keep you busy. I've got a friend who does just that, and she's always got something to do."

"I don't do well on my own, Bart."

"Samantha's not on her own. She's got a whole ranch full of people to worry about."

"Still. It's not the same."

He couldn't argue with that. "No, Althea, it's not the same. But it's a life, and a darned good one. What kind of life is there for you in Little Bend, Texas? What waits for you there? Breakfast, lunch and dinner for your father? What else? The Ladies Social Club? You don't strike me as that sort of woman."

She gave a little nervous laugh. "You make it seem so bleak. Surely there must be more than that?"

"Oh, there is. The church, the school, keeping your father's books, I'm sure you could find things to do at one of those. Or you could run your own ranch and control your own life. Not beholdin' to anyone or anything."

Bart had spent enough time with Althea Taylor to know he was right – she'd never be happy in town being a useless social butterfly. She needed to be doing something productive – to be in charge of her own life and destiny – and he fully intended to encourage her as much as he could. Maybe he'd make her think about her life rather than just sail into it without a plan or direction that would work for her.

And then she turned the tables on him. "What about you?" she asked. "Your brother might be content to wander all over the country playing poker and avoiding real work and commitment, but I'm not sure you are. Sounds like you keep getting involved in people's lives and trying to help them. You want to be nothing more than a card sharp your whole life?"

That made him sit up and lean against the wagon bow. "I'm not a card sharp," he explained to her. "I'm a poker player, and there's a difference. I don't want a another life, Althea. I want to do just what I'm doin'. I'm happy."

Althea didn't immediately respond to his last statement, but it made her wonder. Was he really happy? Was Bret happy? Is that why Bart kept going and getting entangled in things that had nothing to do with poker? And Bret kept rescuing him? Would either of them ever settle down, with a wife and a family? Was she really drawn to Bret Maverick as a man, or just as an escape from the unhappiness she'd felt? Why were there always more questions than answers?

The wagon came to a halt and both of them looked outside, surprised to discover it almost dark. "Well, I've got to help Cookie tonight. I promised I would. She wants to do somethin' special for the drovers. You can come watch if you want or stay here and rest some more. It's up to you."

"I'm comin' with you," Bart responded. "I've had enough of doin' nothin'. Maybe Cookie can put me to work with somethin' that doesn't require breathin'."

"That would make your brother happy."

"Wouldn't it though."


	16. Alternate Realities

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 16 – Alternate Realities

Something wasn't right, but it wasn't yet obvious what it was. Noble was jumpy and skittish, something he hadn't been since the first time Bart rode him. They'd crossed the Red River into Indian Territory and everyone held their breath, waiting for one tribe or another to start demanding a tribute of ten cents or more a head to navigate their land. Bart and Bret were determined there would be no payment made.

The crossing had been problematic, to put it mildly. The river was broad and choppy, and there was no such thing as a safe place to ford it. The cattle at the head of the herd didn't want to cross, preferring to get into the water and walk downstream. Once the leads were finally on solid ground it was difficult to keep them moving at a speed designed to get the remaining steers through the river and on to the other side.

Bret and Bart had decided to use a lesser known part of the Chisolm Trail to cross Indian Territory because the ground was flatter and easier to traverse with as large a contingent as they were herding. The alternate route led them primarily through Chickasaw land, then on through to the Cherokee's. The goal was to cross Indian Territory as quickly as possible, lest one nation suddenly decide it was at war with another.

There was no more time for taking unexpected rests, and whether Bret wanted to admit it or not, Bart was going to pull more than his fair share of work or they weren't going to make Kansas before the real cold set in. Bart knew it was coming and did his best to keep from aggravating his lung, wearing a kerchief over his mouth whenever possible and not doing more than his body would let him. The further they got into Indian Territory the more time he was forced to spend in the saddle.

On this particular morning, Noble wasn't the only one on edge. Bart's instincts warned him there was some kind of trouble ahead and he hoped it wasn't with the Indians. It was always a tricky proposition to try and negotiate your way out of paying the tribute, and Bart held firm hoping they could avoid the whole process.

He rode point with Vinny Roycefield and Joe Fisher, and they kept the cattle moving at a good pace. There was a rise in the hills surrounding the valley they were traveling through and two or three times Bart caught something out of the corner of his eye that disappeared by the time he turned to look at it. Finally he was quick enough to catch the whole vision, and what he saw disturbed but didn't surprise him. Two Chickasaw Braves were watching them for a few seconds and then disappearing behind the next stand of trees. Bart cut away from the herd to find his brother and make him aware of being stalked.

Bret was riding left wing at the widest part of the herd, and it took Bart quite a while to weave in and out amongst the steers and get over to the side Bret was on. "Hey, have you seen 'em?" Bart called when he got close enough for his brother to hear over the constant noise.

"Seen what?" Bret called back, afraid to ask but needing to know.

"Our shadows watchin' us?"

"On the hills?" was the next question.

"Yep," came the expected answer. "Every couple a minutes."

"How many?"

"Two. Chickasaw, it looks like. We gonna try to ride this one out?"

Bret nodded his head. "Chickasaw'll give chase, but probably not attack as long as we keep movin.' You okay with that?"

"Sure. Rather run from them than the Cherokee. You wanna wait and see what they do or should we start movin' the cattle now?"

"Let's move 'em now. Maybe we can convince the Chickasaw not to chase us."

"Okay, Brother Bret." Bart let out a yell and slapped Noble on the rump with his hat. **"RUN 'EM BOYS!"** was the next thing that came out of his mouth, and he and Noble took off for the front. Within seconds every drover was hollering and yelling, running a controlled stampede to try and convince the Chickasaw Braves that they didn't want to deal with the crazy cowboys and the thundering herd of cattle. The Indians watched from the hills out in the open for a short period of time, and then turned and disappeared down the backside of the incline. Everybody ran the herd for a few minutes longer and on Bart's signal started to slow them down, and within half an hour they were back to an orderly drive with the Braves far behind.

Bret caught up with his brother's position at point this time. "Hope we're that successful if we run into Cherokee," Bret remarked.

"You don't think we can get that lucky twice, do you? I'd be real surprised if we did. Besides, who knows if we could run the cattle again and get away with it?"

Bret sighed. "Guess we just have to wait and see what happens. How you feelin' after that run?"

"Fine," Bart replied, trying to disguise his accelerated breathing.

"Brother Bart – "

"FINE, Bret, let it go." Bart turned Noble and headed further out ahead of the herd, not willing to listen to any more of Bret's 'mothering' this morning. Bret had no choice in the matter and went back to riding left wing. Someday he'd understand his brother's reluctance to admit when he wasn't feeling his best, but not today.

The rest of the day passed without major incident. By nightfall they'd crossed a smaller river and bedded the herd down next to a lake; it was a nice change from the flat, dry Texas plains. Jeremy Bafford from the Smithfield Ranch had taken up an almost permanent position as wrangler with Ned Southern and Will Neary had finally moved over to ride drag and learn how to run a cattle drive from the back end forward. Bart was in the process of explaining the peculiarities of that position to Will when Bret came riding in, and he grabbed food and coffee and joined them, mentally promising himself that he wouldn't say a word to his brother about his health. The drovers that had come in earlier were ready to start a poker game, and they actually talked Bret into joining them.

"You all remember now that this is what I really do when I'm not herdin' cattle," he warned them. Everybody laughed, and Cookie even sat in with the boys tonight. The tutoring lesson between Bart and Will lagged and when Althea walked around the corner of the chuck wagon looking for Bret it was Bart that got up to walk with her.

"You don't mind goin' with me instead, do ya?" he asked.

She smiled and blushed slightly. "I've still got the best-looking escort in camp," she answered laughingly. They walked around the lake for a half mile or so before she asked him, "Tell me about your wife."

"Ah, Caroline. I married her as payment for a debt."

"A debt? I don't understand."

They had walked a few feet further before he continued. "My friend Samantha got me out of a sticky situation and I promised her a favor in return. The favor was to marry Caroline."

"There must have been a reason."

"There was. Her father died and left everything to her, but she had to be married to collect on the will. He had unpaid debts and she wanted the money to take care of those. So I married her, with the agreement that when she got the estate we'd go our separate ways."

She'd heard a shortened version of this from Bret. "But?"

"But it took longer than she anticipated. Somebody was trying to get her to sell them the ranch in payment for the debts. When she wouldn't do that they attempted to convince her I was involved with Samantha so she'd throw me out and get divorced."

"But you weren't?"

"Nope. Sam and I were old friends from way back. Once in a while a little more than that, but not often. And not while I was with Caroline." They kept walking, but Bart grew silent, running everything over in his mind one more time.

"And then?" Althea finally prompted him.

"And then we made a mistake. When we found out what was really going on, we decided to stand and fight it. That's when the man behind it all came to kill us."

"Both of you?" she asked incredulously.

"All three of us. Samantha, Caroline, and me. He succeeded partially."

"Bret said you killed him."

Bart put his hands in his pockets. "I did, the son-of-a-bitch. But not soon enough. If she just hadn't walked in the front door - " There was a strangled sound to his voice as he continued. "But she did. He turned and shot her, then me. I returned the favor."

They were still walking, slowly, now almost at the far side of the lake. "Did you love her?"

It took him a long time to answer, but his voice was steady when he did. "Yes."

"Did she love you?"

"Yes."

"How did it feel? When you killed him, I mean?"

"That's a strange question to ask."

"You got to do something I want to do but will never get the chance."

"To kill the man that killed Fred?" He had a hard time imagining Althea pointing a gun at a man and killing him. In cold blood.

"Yes."

"It doesn't make you feel any better. In fact, in some ways it's worse."

"What does that mean?"

"Because all you do is think 'If I'd only done this sooner'."

It was obvious from the expression on her face she'd never thought of that. "What did you do after you killed him?"

"Buried Caroline. Then I ran away to Mexico."

"Did it help? Being in Mexico, I mean."

He shook his head. "No. Not for me. I spent the first two weeks I was there in a drunken stupor."

"But – you don't drink, do you?"

"No. A glass of wine now and then. That didn't stop me. I didn't wanna remember."

"The killing?" she asked, curious as to what he meant.

"The killing, her murder, our love, anything. I wanted to forget everything. And I did; then I couldn't anymore, no matter what I drank or how much. And I quit the morning after I slept in the livery with my horse. I tried to turn back into Bart Maverick."

"Hmmm. And when did you succeed? Turning back into you, I mean?"

"I'll let you know when I do."

They'd stopped walking and stood at the edge of the lake. He looked – what? Sad, miserable, dejected, confused? No, he looked - peaceful. Somewhere along the way he'd learned to live with it. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for telling me all that."

And then the strangest thing happened. He reached over and gathered her into him, and kissed her. It was so different from the way Bret had kissed her. That was filled with longing, and passion, and desire. This was sweet, and tender, and almost chaste. He let go of her, slowly, carefully, and turned back towards camp, then offered her his arm. "I think we better go back."

She put her arm through his. "I think you're right."


	17. Heaven, Hell and Purgatory

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 17 – Heaven, Hell and Purgatory

They'd been gone over an hour before Bret started wondering just where they'd gone. As a result his poker playing began to suffer, and he had to quit because he just couldn't pay attention to his game. He finally got up and saddled his horse, then rode out on the auspices of checking in with the Nighthawks. He rode down along the lake, the way they'd walked, stopping to check in with each drover riding as a night herder until he finally spotted them headed back toward camp. Althea held Bart's arm and everything looked perfectly normal. Bret wondered who he was checking on: his brother or Althea.

He rode past them and tipped his hat, then turned and went back when he heard Bart whistle. As he circled back around Bart asked him, "Want to give a lady a lift?" and he stopped.

"Sure," he answered quickly, and he reached down his arm to swing Althea up on the horse behind him. She waved good-bye to Bart and they rode off, with her arms tightly circling his waist. "Have a good walk?" he asked her.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured. "Your brother's fascinating."

"He is?"

"He still loves Caroline, doesn't he?"

"Is that what you talked about?"

"About her, and her murderer, and Bart's flight to Mexico."

"He told you about Mexico?" Bret was startled. That's the last thing he expected Bart to talk about to anyone.

"Not much. Just about trying to forget everything that happened."

That was a little more like it. "To answer your question, yeah, he still loves her. He always will. Isn't that the way you feel about Fred?"

"Yes. No. I don't know what I feel anymore. Why did you kiss me the other night?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason."

He laughed. She was absolutely right. "Because I needed to. Because it drives me crazy to be around you. Because I shouldn't. Because."

"Oh." They were back at camp, and Bret got down from his horse and lifted Althea down.

"And if you're not careful I'll do it again."

"Oh."

The poker game was over; most everyone was asleep. Bret walked to the back of the second wagon and pulled both Althea's and his own bedrolls out, then took them back to the spot Althea usually slept in. Tonight Bret made up his bed next to hers, and they lay down side by side, conspiratorially close.

"We'll be the topic of discussion tomorrow morning, you realize."

"I don't care," was Bret's only comment to her.

"Your brother – " she started, but Bret cut her off.

"Him again?"

"He got me to thinking about something I told you about before."

"What's that?" he asked her as he propped his head up on an elbow, lying next to her.

"About not selling the ranch."

"I'm surprised," he told her. "I thought you had your mind made up about that?"

"I thought I did, too. But Bart reminded me what I'd be missing if I sold the ranch and moved into town."

"Such as?" He wanted to know what Bart had made her think about, and there was only one way to find out.

"My independence. My ability to have a life that depended on no one but me. My freedom to be whatever I wanted to be." She looked up at Bret, to see what his thoughts were. They were things she'd been thinking about ever since she and Bart had the conversation.

"Good points, all of them. But it's a lot of hard work. I'm sure Bart told you about Samantha Crawford."

"Crawford? Related to his wife? He never mentioned her last name but he told me about her and her ranch."

"Technically it's Bart's ranch. Caroline left it to him, he gave it to Samantha. Samantha had to learn how to do a lot of things she'd never thought of before. And it's hard work. But he's right. She's dependent on no one, man or woman. Is that what you want?"

She was quiet for a moment while he watched her. "I think so. It appeals to me."

"More than moving into town and trying to find things to do with your life?"

"Yes. I can't imagine not staying busy. What would you do?"

"What I'd do isn't important. It's not my life, it's yours."

"What are you going to do when we get to Abilene?"

"Changing the subject, eh?" he asked. "Play some poker. Try to figure out whether to go back to Little Bend or not."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"Do you have to be someplace? Is there someone out there waiting for you?" There was real concern in her voice, and she wondered if he cared, or even noticed it.

"Nope, to both questions. No place and nobody." The camp was still, with everyone asleep, and dark, with nothing but a sliver of moonlight shining down. He could see her face, just a few inches away from his. The only thing he really wanted to do right now was kiss her, but he didn't. Not out here, not right now.

"Would you come back to Little Bend if Bart didn't want to?" That was a loaded question, and he needed a minute to think about it.

Althea reached up to touch his face in the moonlight, and ran her fingers down his cheek. She felt the stubble on his chin. He felt so different from Fred, the only man she'd ever known. He looked down into her face and she could see the brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. At last he answered her. "If I had a reason to."

She reached up with both hands and pulled his face down to hers. When he was so close she could feel his breath she finally kissed him, then murmured, "Is that a good enough reason?" He leaned down and kissed her again, a long, slow, sweet kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes.

"I'd say so."

XXXXXXXX

Bart thought about his kiss all the way back to camp. He hoped Althea understood. In the moment that he kissed her it was a kiss of kindred souls, nothing more. He knew what he'd had, and what he'd lost, and understood that Althea had known and lost the same thing.

There was nothing between them romantically; he was aware how Bret had begun to feel about her, and he had no intention of interfering with that. As much as he'd felt the need to be with his brother and his family after the year spent lost in Arizona, he was beginning to feel the need to get away from everyone. Maybe he'd go straight on to Kansas City or St. Louis, and just send Pappy a telegram explaining his desire to be alone for a while.

When he finally got back to camp almost everyone was asleep. He found his bedroll quickly and started to make a spot to sleep, all the while thinking that he wasn't the least bit tired. Still he should at least lie down and rest, so he rolled out his bedroll next to Noble's saddle and laid down. He was so wide awake that he fell asleep almost immediately, and within a few minutes was deep into a dream that was both frightening and disconcerting . . . . . . .

 _He was on a hill overlooking Little Bend. It was a graveyard, a private family plot with a fence surrounding it, and there were four graves in front of him. The first was marked 'Beauregard Maverick' on the top line and 'Beloved Father' on the second. The next was "Isabelle Maverick' and 'Beloved Mother'. The third grave said 'Elizabeth Josephine Maverick' and 'Beloved Daughter.'_

 _The graveyard was old and so were the headstones. To the right about a foot away was one more headstone that read simply 'Breton Jamison Maverick' and 'Beloved Son.' He didn't understand. 'Breton Jamison?' If this was the Maverick graveyard, where was his headstone? Who was Elizabeth Maverick? And why was Bret's grave marked with_ _his_ _middle name? Something was wrong, and he had to find out what and why, but when he tried to leave he found he couldn't. He could walk anywhere within the fenced-in portion of the graveyard but could go no further. He was caught in a no-man's-land, between heaven and hell, and couldn't get out. The more he struggled to escape the harder it became just to stay where he was. Something Pappy was going to tell him, meant to tell him, something that would have set him free, hung in the air like so many unspoken words, just out of his reach. He had to know what it was. He had to go back to Little Bend before it was too late and listen to the things Pappy needed to tell him. That was the only way to escape this Purgatory the graveyard had become . . . . . ._


	18. Abilene to the North

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 18 – Abilene to the North

All the way through Chickasaw land they waited, expecting almost anything but what they got. For whatever reason the Chickasaw's decided to leave them alone, and everyone breathed a little easier. Every now and then someone would spot a lookout for one of the other tribes, but nothing serious until they'd crossed into unassigned territory. Here there were Cheyenne, Arapahos, a few Comanche, and several tribes of Pawnee. And the outer fringes of the Cherokee Nation.

The herd was two days into the unclaimed land, on the absolute edge of the Cherokees, when it became obvious they were being carefully watched and surreptitiously followed. Day or night, good or bad weather, they had a shadow with them. No move was made to collect a tribute payment, or to prevent the herd from crossing the land.

Extra Nighthawks rode to keep eyes on the herd in the dark, and Bret and Bart got even less sleep than they'd been getting before. Still the cattle moved forward, and soon they had passed through the unassigned territory and were deep into Cherokee land. Their shadows continued to follow them, and nerves were frayed and on end waiting for something, anything to happen. On the third day of being followed at a distance the waiting was over, and two braves approached the point riders, who hurried to find the Trail bosses.

The Maverick brothers rode out to negotiate with the Cherokee warriors, and came back bearing surprising news. The Cherokee would let the herd pass through their land undisturbed, and not charge a tribute. They wanted fifty head of cattle instead.

After discussing the price with Althea, a counter-offer of twenty-five head was made. The ongoing offers and counter-offers finally resulted in payment of thirty-five head, and the burgeoning entrepreneur instructed her Trail bosses to cut out the appropriate number of cattle and hand them over.

Bart and Bret did just that, and the Cherokee Warriors rode off with their thirty-five head. Not one single drover felt the price was too high, or was sorry to see them go.

They were close enough to Kansas to smell it when the attack came. It was a renegade band of Creek Indians, and they were in no mood to be nice. They came screeching out of the last of the Oklahoma hills and went after the drag riders, trying to cut cattle out of the herd at the most vulnerable position. Every spare rider grabbed his horse and went flying into the fray, including the Trail bosses, and all the band of Creek ended up with for their efforts was three wounded, four dead and a sound whipping. One of the Branford riders was killed and Will Neary took an arrow to the leg, which almost put an end to his drover career before it got started.

Things settled back down once the drive crossed the Kansas border, with most of the drovers looking forward to a night off in Wichita, assuming everything remained quiet and peaceful. Bret and Althea continued to take their nightly walks and grew even closer to each other, both as friends and potential lovers. There was a calmness that settled on the older brother, and it extended to Bret's constant worrying about the state of Bart's health. That same health didn't improve any, but at least he wasn't being nagged about it constantly.

Two nights out of Wichita Althea came down with some kind of stomach sickness and was thoroughly miserable. Bart had intended to go into Wichita with the drovers to try and keep everybody out of trouble, but with the boss as sick as she could be Bret wanted to take her to see the doctor in town. That's what caused the switch in jobs; Bart elected to remain with the herd and Bret promised to babysit the drovers as soon as Althea was treated and deposited in the hotel where she could get some rest in a real bed.

Of course nothing went the way it was supposed to. The doctor in Wichita was out delivering a baby and Bret had to wait to take him back to the hotel. By that time three of the drovers were in jail and a fourth had an awful headache from being mistakenly hit over the head by the bartender at the 'Silver Lady' saloon.

Things went no better out at the herd. Cookie's regular helper, Althea, was in Wichita, so she recruited Will to assist her with dinner, and it took her almost two extra hours to make something edible out of the mess he made. One of the Taylor's Nighthawks lost a horse when his mount stepped in a gopher hole and broke his leg, then had to be put down. Already shorthanded due to the trip into Wichita, Bart was forced to spend the whole night riding double-duty when two of the Nighthawks came down with Althea's mysterious illness and were so sick they couldn't stay in the saddle.

By the time the drovers lucky enough to make the trip to Wichita returned to the herd, no one was feeling good. Half of them were drunk and hung-over, and the other half were sick. The men that had ridden Nighthawk and expected to be relieved were forced to ride the rest of the day due to the lack of healthy replacements. Bret had gotten the three in jail released into his custody and hustled them all out of town at the first opportunity, even bringing Althea back with him to try and take care of her while she recovered.

About half of the drovers were fit to ride and did so, replacing as many of their nighttime counterparts as they could, and the decision was made to remain in the same spot for another twenty-four hours and hope there were enough healthy men tomorrow to resume the drive. Bart stayed out with the herd even though his cough had begun to worsen again, and Bret joined him as soon as he'd gotten Althea settled in the second wagon.

"Hey," Bret called as soon as he spotted Bart, "Sorry about the mess."

Bart shook his head and grinned. "What else happened in town?"

Bret went through the litany and finished with, "But they're all back here now. I don't know what kind of shape they're in, but it's their problem. They knew it was only one night, not a whole week like normal. We got real trouble, though, with more of 'em sick than hungover. Whatever this is Althea's come down with, everybody else is gettin' it too. Doc Selby in Wichita says there's been somethin' goin' round but it does seem to go away after about a week. I'd hate to see us stuck here for that long. We're so dang close to Abilene."

"We may have to stay here. Two of the hawks are down with it, and I lost Si Caffrey to a dead horse."

"A dead horse? How'd that happen?"

"Gopher hole. Can you take this for a couple hours? I need to go send Will in. He's been ridin' with that bad leg and I don't think he can sit a horse any longer."

"Sure. When you goin' in?"

Bart laughed. His brother could be so funny without trying. "In another lifetime. I haven't got enough men to go in. That's the last time we ever let drovers go into town before the drive's over. Even if the boss suggests it. How's Althea doin', by the way?"

"Sicker'n a dog. Can't keep food down. Hope to God neither one of us gets it. Why don't you let me go back an take Will's place? Rather you didn't ride drag with that lung problem hangin' on."

"Alright. Not so bad when we're sittin' still. Maybe we'll have enough tomorrow to get goin' again."

"I sure hope so. I'd like to get this over with and get headed back to Texas."

Bart was surprised. He hadn't heard anything from Bret about returning to Texas and just assumed his brother wasn't going back. "You're goin' back home?"

"Yep. For a while, at least."

There was a good reason, Bart assumed. "Althea?"

Bret grinned. "Yep."

"Is it that serious?"

"Yep."

"What's Pappy gonna say?" Time for some good-natured kidding on Bart's part.

Bret just pulled his horse around and headed for the back of the herd. "Don't care!" he yelled back as he rode away.

Now that was news. Bret was actually serious about someone. Pappy would, indeed , have a field day with it.


	19. Drinkin' and Thinkin'

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 19 – Drinkin' and Thinkin'

Whether Bret didn't want to sit still for a week or not, they didn't have a lot of choices. What had started out as solely Althea's illness turned into a rampant epidemic. One after another it attacked everyone but Bret, Bart, and Cookie. The Maverick brothers worked day and night trying to keep the herd together and Cookie made more hot porridge than she ever thought possible. It was almost ten days before there were enough drovers that could stay in the saddle and actually work the herd.

Althea was the first one over the strange illness since she'd been the first to come down with it. Once she'd regained her health she worked right alongside the three stalwarts and was the person that finally insisted Bart, then Bret, get some rest. She saddled her horse and rode the line, along with those who could stay in the saddle for more than a few minutes at a time, and kept going out until almost the full crew of drovers was back.

On day eleven of what had turned into a plague, the drive finally got started again. By that time Will Neary's leg was almost healed and he took over a position as left wing, pleased that the delay in moving the herd had worked to his benefit. Si Caffrey finally chose a new horse from the remuda and rode with Will; between a new left wing and a new cow pony, the two together almost made a whole drover.

The lack of sleep didn't do Bart any favors, but the fact that he didn't have to eat trail dust for ten days did, and the coughing and breathing problems had faded to almost nothing. This morning he was riding peacefully on Noble, drinking his third cup of coffee and watching Bret and Althea on the other side of the herd talking. They looked good together, side by side, and Bart had to smile when he thought what Pappy's reaction to the pairing would be. Uncle Ben had been much more understanding about long term relationships than Pappy, especially after Beau married Georgia, and Bart knew that Bret would have someone on his side when it came time to break the news to the elder Maverick. Neither one had said anything to Bart directly about what they were going to do once they got back to Texas, but Althea had told him of her decision to keep the ranch. Bart just assumed that Bret would at least move in with her, leaving him in the house with Pappy and no protector to intercede when they butted heads.

Then there was Beau, and as Bart rode on he wondered just what his cousin intended to do. He was still co-manager of 'The Four Mavericks' in Silver Creek with Jody, and talked like he intended to go back there, at least for a while. He'd moved out of The Mother Lode, as Georgia had christened their ranch, and turned it over lock, stock and barrel to Jody and Beckham Dooley. As far as Beau knew, they intended to make it their home once they were married. Beau had taken a room at the hotel. He didn't want to go back to Georgia's other house; it was being used as a boarding house and he'd spent too much time there with his wife before they were married. Maybe he could get Beau to go somewhere with him, just the two of them, the way it was before Caroline and Georgia. It might be the best thing for both of them.

Last but not least, Pappy. Bart hadn't had the strange dream again. There were hidden meanings there that, coupled with the little Pappy had said before they left Texas, weighed heavily on Bart's mind. What were Pappy's exact words? ' _I love you, Bart. Every bit as much as your brother. You've no idea how thankful I've always been for the two of you.'_

Something about those words thrilled and scared him at the same time. What was there that Pappy hadn't told him? Who, exactly, was Elizabeth Josephine Maverick? Bart had no doubt that she was real. Or had been real. Did he and Bret have a sister out there in the world somewhere? He wouldn't have believed it possible, but up until a few years ago none of them had known that they had an Aunt Jessie, either, and she was very real. Also very dead. Was that it? Was 'Beth' dead, and he and Bret just didn't know about her? Or had Pappy told Bret all about a sister they never knew and was finally getting around to telling him?

He drank the last of his coffee and turned Noble towards the chuck wagon. As usual, Cookie was singing at the top of her lungs and it made Bart smile. He'd never quite met anybody like Cookie before, and she'd turned out to be a real friend and confidant. For Bret, too, he thought. He'd seen the two of them, many a night with their heads together, talking and laughing in conspiratorial tones. If there was something bothering you, or a secret that you just had to share, Cookie was the person to talk to.

"Hey, Cookie, you keep any coffee for me?" Bart called out when he got close enough.

"Now you know I did, Mr. Bart, I've always got some for my favorite trail boss."

He rode up to the wagon and Cookie miraculously pulled the coffee pot out from under her seat. He still didn't know just how she did it, but she even managed to keep the coffee hot, no matter what time of day he needed some. She had to be a miracle worker.

They were three or four days out of Abilene, and Bart was beginning to miss the camaraderie already. There was nothing like a cattle drive for getting to know people. He'd made two friends on this trip – Cookie Dolan and Althea Taylor. And maybe a third, Ned Southern. Ned was a good kid, a hard worker who just wanted to please you and do the very best job he could. He always had a smile, a kind word, a helping hand for anybody who needed it. His friend Doc Holliday would despise Ned, insisting that nobody could be that happy all the time. Ned reminded him of himself, the way he'd been before he and Bret went off to fight for the Confederate Army. The biggest difference was Ned was too trusting. Bart was afraid Ned would learn that lesson the hard way, to beware and be wary of people.

He rode back out towards the herd and saw Bret signaling him. He hoped it wasn't trouble; all he wanted was a peaceful ending to this long and arduous trip. He wove Noble in and out among the cattle and got across to the other side. Althea was no longer visible; she must have headed towards the back and the drag riders.

"Yes sir, what do you need?"

"Althea and I were talking about the trip back to Texas. You still goin'?"

"Yep." He hadn't told Bret about the dream, just that he wanted to go back and find out what was so dang important that Pappy needed to tell him. "You ridin' or goin' by stage?"

"That's what we were talkin' about. It'd be a lot easier to take a stage, but I hate to see you drag Noble all the way back behind a coach. You got a preference?"

"I can't do that to him. I figured I'd spend a couple nights in Abilene and then start back. Stay over in Wichita and high-tail it across Indian Territory. You?"

"We were thinkin' about takin' a stage. But I sure don't like the idea of you crossin' Indian Territory alone. You dead set on goin' that way?"

"Yep. Not gonna drag the old man all the way back behind a stage. Don't worry about me an Indian Territory. We'll be fine. What're you gonna tell Pappy when you get back?"

"About?"

"You and Mrs. Taylor."

"Oh yeah. That."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it!"

"Not much, no. It's my life, not Pappy's," Bret laughed, letting Bart know he wasn't at all serious.

"Yeah, you just keep that in mind when he's runnin' after you with a shotgun."

"Long as it's not loaded, I'm fine."

Bart watched the steers move past them in a wave. "Let's just get 'em where they're goin' and worry about Pappy later. We've survived worse."

"Ain't that the truth." Bret swung his horse toward the back of the herd, Bart toward the front. One more time, two brothers with like minds going separate ways.


	20. Five for Texas

Long Road Out of Eden

Chapter 20 – Five for Texas

Abilene was noisy, smelly, and dirty. Full of steers and cowboys and women of ill-repute, as well as families and businessmen and charlatans of every sort. Althea found the cattle buyers she was contracted to and 'officially' delivered the herd and got paid. Bret and Bart met her at the 'Abilene Cow Palace' Hotel' to get the drovers pay, then adjourned to 'Fancy's' saloon to dole it out.

Ned and Will collected their pay and left, determined to get back home without drinking it away. They'd been talking to Bart about riding back to Texas together, figuring there might be safety in numbers. Bart wanted a day or two in Abilene to play poker and had no problem returning home with Neary and Southern since they were willing to wait for him before leaving.

Once the drovers were paid they all went their separate ways, with the Mavericks returning to the hotel for rest and a well-earned bath. They were taking Althea and Cookie to dinner and had almost two months of trail dust to get rid of. Clean clothes and a shave turned the trail bosses back into good-looking gamblers, and they were pleased to find the ladies they were escorting had cleaned up just as nicely. Cookie and Althea had gone shopping and bought new dresses for the occasion, and the change in both was remarkable. Cookie was a striking figure when dressed up, and they made an attractive group.

Dinner was pleasant if bittersweet – the four had become good friends and would miss spending time together. Bret and Althea had decided to take the stage back to Little Bend, Bart was riding with Ned and Will and Cookie's next job started in Santa Rosa, New Mexico. At the end of the meal goodbyes were said; Cookie's stage left the next morning. Bret and Althea were headed back the day after that, and Bart's departure was open-ended.

The ladies were escorted back to their rooms and the gentlemen adjourned to 'Fancy's' to see if they remembered how to play a real poker game. The ceremonial 'drinking-yourself-stupid' was in full swing, and there was plenty of poker. Ah, it felt good to get back to their chosen profession!

XXXXXXXX

Bret and Althea were eating breakfast when Bart came downstairs the next morning. He was in his travelin' clothes, so Bret knew something had changed. He waved his brother over and Bart sat, ordering coffee as soon as the waitress came by.

"What's up, Brother Bart? You're dressed for ridin'."

"We're leavin' this mornin'. Will sent a telegram last night to let Winnie know he was in Abilene and the twins are sick. He wants to get back as soon as possible, and I've got no objections. Ned may or may not go with us. Just paid my bill and checked out. Cookie already gone?"

Althea nodded. "She left about an hour ago. I'm going to miss her."

"Me too," Bart agreed. "Miss Dolan was sure not what I expected. I don't think I've ever been quite so surprised by somebody. You ever do this again, Althea, you best be sure Cookie's part of the package."

"I wouldn't think of going without her. There're Will and Ned. Looks like you've got a full contingent after all." Althea nodded towards the two men standing just outside the dining room.

"My ride's here," Bart agreed and kissed Althea on the cheek. He and Bret both rose and started to shake hands, which evolved into a Maverick embrace. "You take good care of this lady, and don't scare her off on the ride back to Texas."

"I'll do my best," Bret answered. "You be careful goin' back, you hear?"

"I will, I gotta get back in one piece. Pappy's got a lot of explainin' to do."

Bart gave a tip of the hat to Bret and his lady and went up the steps to join Ned and Will on their way out the door.

"What did he mean by that?" Althea asked.

"I don't know," Bret answered. "I guess we'll just have to wait until we all get back to Texas to find out."

To Be Continued in "Southern Ladies and Gentlemen Gamblers"

Glossary

 **The Trail Boss** was in charge of the entire operation - On the trail, the Trail Boss directed the daily travel, selecting the route, stopping places, etc., as well as making decisions about what to do with injured animals or calves born on the trail, settling disputes among the cowhands, dealing with folks encountered along the way, etc.

 **D** **rovers** were assigned to several positions around the herd:

 **Point (or pointer)** \- also known as the lead or van. These cowhands rode at the front of the herd, guiding the cattle as the Trail Boss directed. Part of that point job involved keeping the lead steer (or bell cow) going in the correct direction. With a good lead steer the whole drive would go a lot easier.

Following them were the **outriders** , who were assigned to one of four positions:

 **Left or right swing (or wing)** , riding on either side of the herd where it started to swell. They tried to keep the herd tight and went after any strays. When the outriders had to go after strays that tried to escape in the brush, they were sometimes dubbed "brush-poppers."

 **Left or right flank** \- riding further back, they kept the herd moving in a line, while also picking up and turning back any strays.

The least desirable position was **drag** \- the "dust-eaters." These drovers rode at the back of the herd, keeping it moving forward.

 **Night Herders** , also known as **Nighthawks** \- While in camp, the drovers took turns circling the herd to watch for strays and predators and trying to prevent stampedes.

 **The Wrangler** had charge of the remuda - the spare horses needed for the drive. With often more than 100 horses in the remuda, this was no small task.

 **The Cook** **(or cookie)** was probably the most important person on the drive, and had what was perhaps the most tiring job. Up long before sunrise and long after sunset, Cookie had to prepare meals (often in adverse conditions) that kept the crew happy and well-fed, as well as driving the chuck wagon between camps.


End file.
